


Foolishness

by ThymeSprite



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Banter, F/M, Insecurity, Thu'um
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 19:23:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14677794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThymeSprite/pseuds/ThymeSprite
Summary: Marcurio is in need of money and his new employer could help with that.Only... he finds much more than he bargained for.





	1. Chapter 1

Riften really was not what it used to be. Or so Marcurio had been told, he did not know for he had not been here long enough to know for himself. Still… he had to hope that this rundown town had seen better days because now it was nothing more than a dangerous pit of deceit, even though the high and mighty Thieves Guild was a joke.

Really, the stench of rotting wood and fish that had gone bad days ago should have warned him, but it had not. His inner voice had not gotten through the grumbling of his stomach.

Looking around in the inn, the Bee and Barb, Marcurio thought that he really should leave, there was no work to be found here, at least no honest work, but alas… he did not have the gold on him to leave, otherwise he would have weeks ago.

Sullenly, he took a swig of his mead, grimacing at the taste, for it was warm and watered down. His eyes did a last, desperate sweep of the patrons, but it was just the same old drunkards, braggarts and dusty travellers about as rich as he was. It was hopeless, but what was there to do?

So he stared at his feet, trying to find a way out… as that way presented itself. As steel boots wandering into his field of vision. No one in this town wore Skyforge steel, no one. That kind of steel meant gold, so Marcurio looked up…and up…and up, blinking as he realised how tall the warrior in front of him was. Surely a Nord, maybe an Altmer… no, too bulky, a Nord then.

The hulking figure looked around and as the visor of his helmet looked in Marcurio’s direction, he fired off his usual spiel: “Greetings, traveller. You look capable, but it’s best not to travel alone. And nothing can happen to you with a master of magic by your side.”

Apparently hearing his words, the warrior turned his full attention to Marcurio and lifted off his helmet. Which made him realise that the warrior was a woman.

He gaped, but then shook himself to gather his wits about him – to no avail.

The woman looked at him, the gaze from her dark eyes making him squirm uncomfortably, inexplicably. The wry grin on her thin lips did not help matters any, even though her voice was warm and deep: “Where would I find such a master?”

Wha… Marcurio flinched, sputtered. Had she just… used his own words against him?

No one had done that before here in Riften. Alright, game on.

Even though he felt a bit like a rabbit staring at a wolf.

“Why, right in front of you. My skill in battle is unmatched and fortunately for you, it can be bought.”

Her grin never faltered, it even turned more…wolfish as she continued to size him up, but Marcurio was determined to stand his ground. Never mind that he was currently sitting.

“You said I looked capable enough.”, the warrior spoke then, still amused, “Why then would I have need of a self-proclaimed master such as yourself?”

Oh, she was good… this could be fun. At least that was what Marcurio told himself past the lump in his throat as he stood up.

He immediately wished he had not. The warrior was almost a head’s length taller than him. True, he was an Imperial, she was a Nord, but Divines, she had to be huge even for her race.

Nevertheless he kept his show up and circled her once, thoroughly looking over her armour before he told her: “I see a sword, a shield and a bow and quiver. All of good quality and well kept, no doubt. But you don’t strike me as a spell caster.”

“True.”, she allowed and now he was the one to smirk, “Yet magic can save you in a tight spot. So, no matter your skill as a warrior, you will want a mage along.”

He stood before her now and had to curl his toes so as not to squirm under her gaze. It was not comfortable to have to almost strain his neck just to be able to look into her eyes.

“Alright.”, she smiled, but he nearly flinched from her voice, “That sounds convincing. But how much would your unmatched skill cost me?”

It did not take a genius to know that she did not trust his skill even as far as she would be able to hurl him. Still he kept up his spiel, bowed to her and as he straightened again, he said: “My skill can be yours for a humble fee.”

“As humble as you are?”, she shot at him, making Marcurio stumble in his routine and as he looked at her, a dark eyebrow cocked wickedly over a dark brown eye, sparkling with mischief, he could not find it in him to form an eloquent answer, so he just blurted out: “500 Septims.”

“Hmm…”, she mused, theatrically scratching the back of her shorn head in apparent thought that gave Marcurio the distinct feeling that she was mocking him, then she shrugged, “How can I be sure that I won’t waste my hard earned gold in the first ruin we explore together?”

Again she had him sputtering for a reply and Marcurio frowned. Was that broad really worth the trouble? He was not sure, but the desolate state of his pouch settled that matter for him. He had to content with her, whether he wanted to or not.

“I am an expert on Nord ruins.”, Marcurio stated, trying to sound a lot more confident than he was, “And why settle for just stabbing your foes when you can roast them alive in a gout of arcane fire?”

At this she laughed, a full-on belly laugh, throwing her head back and shaking her shoulders with her merriment. Marcurio did not get the joke, he suspected, but he could not help but chuckle along.

“Alright.”, she then stated, “Let’s talk this over while having dinner. If you prove to not be a nuisance, you can consider yourself hired.”

She still had reservations? Damn the woman.

But Marcurio smiled pleasantly and jested: “Fine, but you are buying.”

At this she raised an eyebrow again, but then inclined her head and said: “Very well.”

“After you, Milady.”, Marcurio invitingly gestured to the main room of the Bee and Barb and revelled in the dirty look she gave him for this, then they found an empty table and Marcurio pulled out the chair for his new employer. She frowned and he smiled with his amused reply: “You might be a capable warrior and all, but I was raised as a gentleman. After that, something must have gone wrong, but I still know to treat a woman with respect.”

“By indicating she can’t pull up her own chair.”

“No.”, he grumbled, vexed, “By doing it for her despite the knowledge that she can do it herself. And, in your case, could even bash my head in with the chair.”

Again she laughed and sat down, nodding at him. When he too was seated, she introduced herself: “My name is Lyra.”

“Like the instrument?”, Marcurio blurted, immediately afterwards biting his tongue as punishment for its betrayal, for her grimace told him she had not wanted to be reminded of that little tidbit. Then she shrugged with a grin and said: “My mother had read the name somewhere and clearly not known what it actually meant.”

Again she shrugged and now so did he before he replied: “I am Marcurio.”

She chuckled and as he looked at her, a question in his eyes, she just shrugged again: “That’s about the most Imperial name I’ve ever heard.”

“True, but being amongst all you tall Nords, I’m lucky not to pass as a tiny Breton.”

“True.”, Lyra allowed and just then Keerava, the owner, came over to take their orders. For a second, Marcurio hesitated, as he did not want to anger her by spending more of her money than she thought justified, but when he heard Lyra order more for herself than he could eat, he let those reservations go. Soon their meals were there and they dug in, both hungry, although Marcurio was sure her appetite came from extensive travel, while he had just been sitting on his ass that had gone bony from his lack of Septims.

After a few spoons full of the hot stew, he found himself asking: “You mentioned ruins before. Does that mean we’re going…”

“Grave robbing?”, she asked and Marcurio was not sure whether she was serious or jesting, but then she grinned and shook her head, “No. I admit, I have explored a few ruins on my travels, but mostly I am… bounty hunting.”

Somehow he got the feeling that she was not telling him the truth, at least not all of it. But it was alright with him, he was just making conversation so as not to prove a nuisance, as she had put it: “Out for money or justice?”

“Why not both?”, Lyra asked shrugging and he nodded, “Both is good.”

The rest of the dinner passed with companionable chatter and Marcurio had to admit, silently of course, that she could prove to be the most fun employer he had had in a while. Her tongue was about as sharp as his and they traded more and more friendly insults as the evening progressed.

But she was hiding something, that he was certain of. Not that it mattered much, but he was curious by nature.

“What’s our first stop?”, he inquired and she told him, “Faldar’s Tooth to the west. The bandits there are…”

Lyra interrupted herself with a groan and Marcurio looked around, trying to find what had upset her, but he came up empty.

“What is it?”, he asked, surprised to hear concern in his voice, but he shoved the thought aside.

“Just… that song.”, Lyra shuddered as she said it and Marcurio listened to the bard in the middle of the room sing “The Dragonborn Comes”.

“Well, she’s not especially good, but it’s a nice enough tune, don’t you think?”, he asked, even more confused by the pained grimace that was Lyra’s face as she glared at the bard, replying through gritted teeth, “I’ve just…heard it a few times too often.”

Lyra shot the bard another resentful glare, then she threw back the rest of her mead and stood up: “I’m going to bed. Be ready, Master Mage, we leave at dawn.”

With that jab she left him at their table and once again Marcurio was only able to look at her, but he had no words. Then he grinned. That woman was worth the trouble, that much he knew already.

Alright, he hoped. She was fun, but what if she was a terrible fighter?

Then she would not have been able to make her way alone to Riften. He nodded to himself as he watched her speak to Keerava, presumably to rent a room, then she climbed the stairs, giving him a smile before she went out of sight.

Yeah, she could really be worth it. Marcurio grinned and finished his wine with delight. After all, wine was best if he had not paid for it himself. Any who knew? Maybe she would buy him dinner more often? At least the 500 Septims would take care of his hungry belly.

With that cheerful thought, Marcurio got up as well and made his way upstairs into his room. Sleep eluded him, though, and he found himself lying awake, thinking about his new employer. Their travels were going to be fun and the woman herself was a mystery. But Marcurio was looking forward to solving the puzzle that Lyra was.


	2. Chapter 2

The woman was not worth the trouble.

Marcurio had blisters on his feet, sweat was trickling down his back and even though they were still in the Rift, it was cold. So cold. Especially at night.

Alright, maybe he was just being a wuss, but she did not make travelling easy on him.

He glared at Lyra’s back, thinking that it was not her fault that he was out of training, but damn it to Oblivion, could the woman not once stick to the roads?! They were bad enough in Skyrim anyway, but she insisted on running through the fields, across country. And she always found trouble.

Just as he thought that, Lyra took a sharp turn to the left and Marcurio could only groan as he saw yet another old fort, surely occupied by bandits.

“You would not want to explore, say, a nice tavern? For a change?”, he mumbled under his breath, or he tried to, but she set a fast pace, so he was a bit out of breath. She, however, was not, as she chuckled: “Were would be the fun in that?”

“Oh, I don’t know.”, he muttered sourly, “Maybe hidden inside a cup of wine? Under a bed?”

“Forts full of bandits and caves full of animals are much more interesting.”, Lyra assessed with a cheeky grin and Marcurio sighed, “But they are dangerous.”

“But fun.”, she said, undeterred.

“But…dangerous…?”, Marcurio weakly tried, even though he already knew her answer, “But fun.”

“I give up.”, he then sighed and trudged after her, when she suddenly stopped. Marcurio frowned at her, but she even took off her helmet and asked: “Are you alright? Should we make camp?”

“Not necessary.”, he assured her, admittedly a bit gruffly.

“Are you sure?”, Lyra asked again and he barked, “Yes!”

“Have it your way, then.”, she said, put her helmet back on and resumed her way over to the fort.

No, he could not let that stand.

“Wait, please.”, Marcurio asked and she stopped, turned around, but did not take off her helmet, a bad sign. Still he tried to find her eyes in the small slit of her armour, tried to hold her gaze and – to his own surprise - sincerely said: “I’m sorry. It’s been a while since I walked this much. And you… are capable.”

He heard her chuckle and huffed, but then she took off her helmet and when Marcurio saw her smile, he knew that she was appeased. He really had made an ass of himself. But he wondered why on earth he cared.

“Do you want to rest?”, she asked again and this time, Marcurio hesitated, but then decided, “No. But give me time for some water and an apple.”

“Done.”, Lyra said and they both produced a meal from their backpacks. They sat on rocks for their meagre feast and time and again, Marcurio felt her glance at him. For her sharp tongue, she almost seemed shy to him now.

“Where are we headed?”, he asked after a bite of his apple and Lyra nodded behind her to the crumbling fort, “That is the old fort Nilheim. The bandits have drawn the attention of the people and a bounty has been put out… after the Ivarstead guards could not clear them out.”

“Wait…we’re almost in another Hold already?”, Marcurio asked and as she nodded, innocently, he blew raspberries, “No wonder my feet are killing me.”

Lyra raised her eyebrows in a question she then also voiced: “Do you need a Stamina potion?”

“No, I got something better.”, Marcurio smirked and pulled his boots off. Ah, freedom. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of travel, sweat, dust and grime, but then he concentrated on the spell he had learned a long time ago. He quietly mumbled to himself as he sent a warm, soothing wave of healing magic into his mistreated feet. When his wounds were healed, he wiggled his toes and grinned at Lyra: “That spell is one reason why you’ll want me along.”

As he pulled his boots back on, he heard her jest: “Healing blistered feet? Very impressive, Master Mage.”

Marcurio rolled his eyes, but laughed at her sharp tongue before he replied: “I’m talking about bigger wounds and you know it.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”, Lyra promised and then nodded behind her again, “Ready to go.”

“Let’s roast them.”, Marcurio nodded. They had only been travelling together for a few days by now, but one thing was for sure: They made an amazing team. They did not have to talk strategy, hardly ever had to call out commands or warnings. He had to admit, she was a skilled fighter and his magic complemented her fighting, he might just say to perfection. So between the two of them the bandits’ den was cleared quickly and easily.

“I think that’s a new record.”, Marcurio laughed as the bandit leader fell just like all of his goons had before him, “I mean, I knew we were good, but I didn’t think we were that good.”

“We are.”, Lyra nodded, grinning at him as she rummaged through the earthly possessions the bandits had left behind. It was not much, but loot was loot. So Marcurio joined her and they found a few potions, a new helmet for Lyra she immediately donned.

“It suits you.”, he nodded, realising that he liked the fact that he could see her face now despite the helmet, but he did not divulge that bit. Instead he looked around and so they also found a book.

“Look at this, “An Explorer’s Guide to Skyrim”, now that’s promising.”

“Do you even still need it?”, he asked and as Lyra just looked at him, he shrugged, “I mean, you must have been all over Skyrim by now, haven’t you?”

“Not yet.”, she smiled, “I’ve never been to Markarth.”

“You didn’t miss a thing.”, he assured her and she laughed, flipping through the pages, then she hummed and added, “And I’ve never been to the Atronach Stone. Sounds interesting.”

“It does.”, Marcurio nodded and looked at the book, trying to find out where that Stone was. Of course, deep in Eastmarch Hold, where else?

“Next destination?”, he asked, already knowing her answer, so she just nodded, closed the book and was already out the door before Marcurio could even turn around. Then he sighed and followed her, prepared for yet another night out under the sky, if not really happy about it. And true enough, Lyra insisted on making good use of all the daylight they had left, the river always on their left, gurgling away.

Marcurio was sure they were at least near the border to Eastmarch Hold when they finally made camp and he wanted nothing but to pass out on his bed roll. He even declined dinner and he ignored Lyra’s knowing chuckle.

When she woke him for his watch, Marcurio felt as if he had hardly slept, but he took the watch without a word. Still, he hated watch. This was just another good thing about staying in an inn, it was warm, there was food and drink… and no one had to keep watch. It was always boring, but still everyone hoped that watch would be uneventful. Everything else was a disaster.

Marcurio listened for hours to the fire crackling, the owls hooting and the occasional wolf howling in the distance. It was a sweet music in its own right… but the mumbled words did not fit in.

It took him a moment to understand that Lyra was speaking in her sleep, but he did not understand a single word. Her voice was harsh, guttural, nothing like the warm, deep sound he was used to by now. He did not understand what she was saying, but her feelings were clear, she was agitated, thrashing around in pain… she was scared.

“Lyra.”, Marcurio softly spoke, seeing her face contort in a grimace of despair, “Lyra.”

She did not wake, only grew more agitated, as did Marcurio when the ground beneath him began to shake. An earthquake? Still she did not wake from her nightmare, so Marcurio tried to shake her awake: “Lyra!”

Suddenly she shot upright and flinched, away from him.

“You were dreaming.”, he told her, “Are you alright?”

He should not care as much as he did, but he could not help it.

“Aye…”, she whispered shakily, but she nodded, “Just…a dream.”

“Did you notice the earthquake?”, Marcurio enquired and her eyes grew wide, but then she shook her head, frightened as it seemed. Again, she was hiding something, but seeing the genuine fright in her eyes, hearing her harsh breath, Marcurio decided to let it rest. For now.

“Should we continue our way? It’s almost dawn anyway.”, he suggested instead and she nodded, took a deep breath and then proceeded silently with the usual morning routine they had developed. The only thing missing was their chatter and Marcurio had to admit that he missed it.

Lyra continued her silence as they packed up camp and made their way towards Eastmarch Hold, towards the Atronch Stone, but Marcurio felt that her heart was not in it today, the enthusiasm from the day before was gone as if it had never existed. She just walked into the right direction, never stopping, never diverting her attention… to be honest, it scared him, seeing her so vastly different.

“Lyra.”, he tried to get her attention after hours of marching through the fields and she stopped, but only to say, “I will not talk about it.”

“Never said you had to.”, Marcurio raised his hands in defence, swallowing the exact suggestion she had just dejected, “I just wanted to know if there is anything I can do.”

She smiled at him, but then shook her head: “No. It was just a bad dream. It happens.”

With that she resumed their path, but Marcurio added: “And the earthquake?”

“…what earthquake?”, Lyra asked, but the stiffness in her shoulders belied her question. But she said nothing more, just ignored his question and moved on.

He would not let it go this time, Marcurio decided, and just as he opened his mouth, he heard thunder.

But it was not thunder…

“What was that?”, he asked, looking around, but only seeing a clear blue sky and not a single soul around them. Lyra did not seem to have heard anything, so Marcurio was just about to dismiss it when he heard it again, roaring thunder.

“There it is again!”, he urged, “What is this?”

“Let’s… find a cave. Before the thunderstorm reaches us.”, Lyra said, her voice strained and she quickened her pace, so that now they were almost running, where he did not know.

“This is no thunderstorm.”, Marcurio insisted and he heard it once again, “What is this?!”

He got his answer as he spotted the dark figure in the clear sky.

“Lyra…”, Marcurio whispered, trembling, “That’s a dragon.”

A few paces in front of him, she stopped and hung her head. Then she quietly, yet firmly told him: “Take cover. Stay down.”

Marcurio nodded and looked for cover, but then he heard the distinct sound of Lyra unsheathing her sword.

“Wha…?”, he muttered, “What are you doing?”

“Take cover.”, she just advised him again, calm and firm, then she slowly stepped towards the descending beast, quickly closing in on their position.

“What in Oblivion…! Are you going to meet it head on?!”, Marcurio shouted at her, but she ignored him, just hefted her sword to get a better grip, “Lyra!”

She kept ignoring him and when the beast landed in front of her, the ground beneath it shaking violently, Marcurio’s breath left him. His heart beat furiously in his chest, but he could not move, could do nothing but stare as the beast touched ground right in front of Lyra.

And she attacked. There was no hesitation in her movement, not the slightest hint of fear. She swung her blade with the grace he had learned to associate with her fighting, dodged the swipe of a claw that came dangerously close to her sword arm. When the dragon snapped at her with its maw, Marcurio’s heart almost stopped, but Lyra bashed her shield against the beast’s snout, driving it back with a yelp of pain and as it retaliated by swinging its horned tail at her, she… spoke, nothing more, but it drove the brutal blow off course, allowed her to land another hit, wounding her opponent. She looked unfazed… as if she had done that dozens of times before.

Divines, for all he knew, she probably had.

The two combatants moved in a furious dance around each other, neither giving ground, but Lyra, to Marcurio’s immense wonder - and admittedly, joy – gained the upper hand, bloodying the creature with every single swipe of her sword against its thick, glistening hide. But the dragon did not give up. Again and again it reached for Lyra and she, in turn, danced away… until she did not.

The dragon’s claw would have torn apart her face had she not thrown up her shield in the last moment, so the claw crashed against metal in a sickening screech and a bang that resounded even in Marcurio’s bones even though he was far away, in cover.

No longer, he saw red.

“You die this day, dragon!”, he yelled as he ran towards the creature, throwing lightning directly into its malevolent, beady eyes.

It roared in pain and shock, reared its head, but Marcurio did not relent. Neither did Lyra. She used the opening his attack had given her and buried her sword deep into the belly of the beast, to the hilt. Blood spurted forth as she yanked the blade back and the lightning from Marcurio’s hands fizzled and died, but so did the dragon.

It slumped to the ground, lying motionless.

He could not believe it. They had just killed a dragon.

A mad grin spread on Marcurio’s face, but seeing Lyra on her knees next to the creature wiped that off his face. He ran to her, reaching for her arm and she yanked it away from his gentle grasp, but he was too riled up to notice as he asked: “Are you injured?”

She shook her head slightly, staring at the dragon’s corpse wide eyed.

“It’s dead, we killed it.”, Marcurio reassured her, why he did not know, and his mad grin came back in full force, but it froze when he saw the dragon move.

At least he thought that, but then he realised that its flesh was burning, flaking away as nothing but ash, leaving only bones… and whitish wisps of magic so strong it almost suffocated him, but all the tendrils of energy shot into Lyra.

He wanted to shout a warning, yell out his shock, but his throat constricted and he was powerless to do anything as he watched Lyra being encased by the dragon’s magic. And then absorbing it.

When it vanished, she was still kneeling on the ground, stiffly sheathed her sword and hung her head before she slowly got back to her feet.

“You…”, Marcurio stammered, blinking in confusion before he said, not comprehending, but nonetheless sure, “You absorbed its soul. You are the Dragonborn.”

Lyra merely nodded, then turned around and said: “Come, we will go back to Riften.”

She had already taken a few steps before he managed to ask: “Why? The Atronach stone is that way.”

“I know.”, she spoke quietly, giving him a sad smile, “But I’ll bring you back to Riften.”

Then it dawned on him.

“You’re… you’re firing me?!”

He could not believe it, refused to believe it.

“No.”, Lyra then said, “I am giving you an opportunity to leave.”

“Why in Oblivion would I want that?!”, Marcurio asked, dumbfounded, not able to control his wild gesturing.

“Because…dragons?”, Lyra asked, blinking at him out of weary eyes, “They are dangerous.”

“But fun.”, Marcurio grinned madly and she frowned as he added, “Even more interesting than forts full of bandits and caves full of animals.”

She blinked at him, then shook her head and whispered: “Are you serious?”

“Of course!”, he laughed merrily, “How many have met a dragon and lived to tell the tale?”

“So you want the glory of a dragon slayer?”, Lyra asked, her tone making him frown, “Well…no. Not exactly. No.”

He looked at the skeleton, then back at her before he asked a counter question: “Why do you think knowing you are the Dragonborn would make me want to leave?”

Her eyes widened and Marcurio knew he had hit the mark on the spot, so he insisted: “Who left you because of it?”

“Everyone and no one.”, Lyra answered cryptically, then she asked again while looking at him through her dark lashes, horribly insecure, “Are you sure you want to stay? Despite the dragons?”

“Absolutely.”, Marcurio said without hesitation and then smiled, “Travelling with you is filling my coffers nicely, and while I could have that with any employer, you are fun to travel with. Such opportunities are rare. A dragon won’t drive me away.”

She gave him an odd glance for that, but then she believed him, he realised it in the radiant smile she gave him next.

“I believe the Atronach Stone was that way.”, she then jerked her head behind him and brushed past him.

“Hold on.”, Marcurio quietly asked her and she stopped, her shoulders rigid, but he only saw it from the corner of his eyes as he went over to the dead dragon, “Don’t you want a souvenir?”

At this she laughed, a liberating, resounding full belly laugh.

“What?”, Marcurio frowned indignantly, but she just waved at the skeleton and invitingly said, “Go ahead.”

Cautiously, he tried to pry a scale off a bone, but it was difficult. Stubborn creatures.

“Allow me.”, Lyra spoke directly next to him and he flinched, not having heard her approach. With a quick, obviously trained move of her wrist that used the impressive strength of her sword arm, she ripped the scale off. Marcurio had no words, but his wide eyes probably spoke volumes.

“Here you go.”, Lyra smiled, a tight-lipped smile that somehow seemed sad to him, like the look she had given him when he had learned of her being the Dragonborn. Why was that?

“Thank you.”, he barely managed to say while stashing the scale away in his pack, admiring the smooth, hard surface. True, it was dangerous, hard, but beautiful beyond compare. Somehow.

He also, somehow, found himself looking up at Lyra at that thought. He quickly pushed it away and scrambled to his feet, hurrying after her, his quick footsteps kicking up the dust of the plain. When he reached her, Marcurio grinned and asked: “Hiding that Dragonborn business makes me think you have a lot more things you haven’t told me.”

She glanced at him, then warily asked: “So?”

“So?”, he chuckled, “You should know by now that I can be a pest if I really want to know something.”

When she groaned, it was his turn to laugh aloud.


	3. Chapter 3

“Now for real, though.”, Marcurio urged, walking next to Lyra over the greyish-brown dust, “What’s the deal with that Dragonborn business?”

“The deal?”, she asked, shaking her head and he skipped ahead, then turned around and, walking backwards in front of her, asked again, “Yeah, what’s the deal? What can you do? Apart from kick dragon ass.”

He saw her roll her eyes at him before she muttered something under her breath, so he laughed: “Come on! You can’t expect me not to want to study something like this! It’s the stuff of legends!”

“Legends don’t burn down villages.”, Lyra growled and then grabbed his shoulders, startling him as she more or less manhandled him to his right and turned him around. That made him realise that he would have stepped right into one of the sulphurous hot springs common in the area.

“Thanks.”, Marcurio breathed and she snorted with amusement, so he had to fire off a jab at her, “Just don’t think my gratitude would stop my questions.”

“Perish the thought.”, Lyra mumbled, making him laugh in turn before he insisted, “So… what can you do with that dragon soul of yours?”

“Fight.”, she growled at him clearly not pleased with his insistence, but he flashed her a - hopefully – charming smile. It seemed to work, for she sighed, shrugged and slowly began, “I am not entirely sure. The Greybeards said it would make me more resilient, stronger… and it enables me to learn the thu’um without much effort, either from the dragons’ word walls or by taking a dragon’s soul. So I am a threat and dragons are territorial, therefore my soul makes me a riv… what?!”

Marcurio had been staring at her, he realised as she stopped and frowned at him.

“Uhm…”, he tried to decide what to say first, but his words tumbled over themselves and what came out was, “You were with the thu’m to study the Greybeards?”

“No.”, Lyra said, slowly smirking, “The other way round.”

“Huh…? Yeah, sure.”, Marcurio stammered, “You were?”

“Yes.”, she nodded mildly, a warm smile on her lips, but it died when he asked, “Show me.”

She stared at him, shook her head, but Marcurio nodded, a detail from her fight against the dragon a few hours before suddenly falling into place in his mind: “You Shouted at the dragon, pushed it back somehow with your voice.”

Lyra took a deep breath, then she shyly glanced at him and nodded.

“Wow.”, Marcurio blinked, then assessed, “Must have saved you a couple of times.”

“Not… as often as you might think.”, she murmured under her breath, the same sadness back in her dark eyes. Before Marcurio could ask the reason from her, she plastered a smile onto her face and asked: “You really want to see the thu’um?”

He could merely nod, everything else would have required too much effort. Lyra obviously steeled herself, then took a deep breath and clearly spoke: “Feim.”

Before Marcurio had time to process the powerful magic washing over him with her word, she ran towards him, her intent to tackle him clear. Wide-eyed, Marcurio scrambled away… when she just passed through him.

Clutching his chest in which her hand had just disappeared, Marcurio felt no different, but shocked nonetheless. When rational thought caught up to him, he whirled around, staring at her, then he laughed.

“That seems useful.”, he chuckled and she inclined her head, “It can be.”

“That was… quite the trick you pulled.”, he then added with a smirk, “You know, if you wanted to be so close to me, you could have just asked…”

He had spoken without thought, now feeling his ears heat up with a blush.

“Uhm…”, he then stammered, Lyra looked about as surprised as he was, but she found her voice before he did, although it sounded a bit shaky when she pointed at steam rising from a crack in the ground, “See that?”

Glad for the distraction, Marcurio nodded and she took another breath before she said: “Fo.”

Just like that, she column of steam froze, crackling with the sudden change before it just stood there. Gingerly Marcurio reached for it, his fingers touching the expected, yet surprising coldness: “It’s solid ice.”

Lyra glanced at him, again shy, but he chuckled: “This is impressive.”

“Aye?”, she asked, biting her lip before she grinned. That did not bode well. Marcurio took a cautious step back, but he should have known that it would be of no use.

“Fus.”, Lyra growled playfully, speaking to his feet and he stumbled back from the push against his lower legs.

“What in…”, he cursed and found her laughing, “That’s what I used against the dragon.”

Now he too had to laugh, yet it was soon replaced with a frown as he wondered: “But against the dragon your voice had a lot more force.”

“True.”, Lyra admitted and shyly met his eyes clearly stating his question and she relented, maybe accepting that he would not let it go, “The use of the thu’um is a lot about balance, control and intent. I needed to kill the dragon, but I did not want to hurt you.”

“Thank you for that. But are you sure?”, Marcurio could not help but joke, although it sadly did not have the desired effect, so he diverted, “Did I get it right, the Shouts are basically just words? In the dragon tongue?”

“Yes.”, she sighed, obviously grateful for not being pressed, “Every battle between dragons is basically a heated debate. And every thu’um is comprised of three words.”

“But you only used one word so far.”, Marcurio observed and Lyra hung her head, in sadness or shame, he was not sure, “Why is that?”

“Because… they are powerful.”, Lyra whispered, pointing at the column of steam she had frozen; it was still solid ice.

“One word did that.”, she almost spat in disgust, “Can you imagine what all three would do?!”

“No.”, Marcurio honestly said, then slightly smiled, “You’ll have to show me.”

“No.”, Lyra outright refused, horror in her eyes, “No, Marcurio, you don’t know what you’re asking…”

“Look at this.”, he told her as he pushed up the sleeve of his robes, exposing his left forearm, “Do you see these scars?”

He usually hid them as best he could, but he had to show her.

“They were caused by a spell gone wrong. I had not fully grasped the concept of it when we were told to practice the spell and I botched it.”, Marcurio told her and she frowned, reaching out her hand, but pulling it back before she touched his scarred skin, “The instructor barely allowed my wounds to be healed before she made me cast the spell again. And again.”

“That’s cruel.”, Lyra stated and he shrugged, “Maybe. Back then, I thought her a bitch.”

This time she did touch his skin, slowly traced the serrated, slightly darker tissue with a mixture of fascination and horror. Marcurio smiled, but then broke her reverie with a question: “Do you want to know which spell did that?”

She just nodded shakily and released his hand, a pity, but he answered: “Lightning.”

“You use that spell all the time…!”, Lyra gasped and he grinned and wordlessly inclined his head, making her groan, “Which is exactly your point.”

“Indeed it is.”, Marcurio confirmed and when she turned away with a weary sigh, he insisted, “Lyra, please hear me out. Yes, the Shouts are powerful, frighteningly so, yes, but they could save you one day. For that, you have to use them, have to practice them.”

“You sound like the Greybeards!”, she accused without much force behind her words and Marcurio shrugged with an amused smile, “They aren’t considered the wisest group in Skyrim for nothing, you know.”

She lightly chuckled at this, but then looked to the distance and whispered just one word: “How?”

It was not a Shout, but it was powerful.

“Push yourself, ignore your fear, ignore your pain. Do it again and again.”, Marcurio said as he put a hand on her shoulder, “Just like I did.”

One corner of her lips moved up, just the slightest bit, but he could see the resolution in her eyes, although it was still clouded with concern. To break through that, he mockingly told her: “Just take comfort in the knowledge that I am here.”

He just wished he had meant it nowhere near as seriously as he secretly did.

Lyra sighed wearily once again, then she licked her dry lips and looked around until her eyes settled on a boulder to her right, the size of a cow.

“Stay back.”, Lyra asked him, but Marcurio snorted in amusement, “That didn’t keep me away from the dragon and it surely won’t keep me away from this!”

“You’re insane.”, Lyra nervously muttered, but then gave him a smile, still insecure, but he saw the steely resolve behind it. She breathed deeply, closed her eyes for a moment and then glanced at him before she Shouted at the boulder: “Fus Ro Dah!”

While Marcurio had been staggered by her force and the dragon had been pushed off balance… the boulder was catapulted away from them, hurled up into the air and came crashing down many metres away with enough force to obliterate it.

“Wow.”, Marcurio managed to say, deeply impressed, but Lyra harshly sighed and growled, “I told you they were dangerous.”

“They are.”, Marcurio nodded and grasped her shoulder again, “But you misunderstand. This is an immensely powerful weapon. If you had used the full force of this against the dragon, you would have Shouted it out of the sky!”

She just glanced at him, shrugging off his touch, but Marcurio did not relent, he turned her to face him again. Well, truly, he only managed to turn her because she allowed it, but she did look at him and he suggested: “Let’s make a deal. Whenever you learn a new word, you use it. Immediately.”

Horrified, she shook her head, but Marcurio just showed her his scars again and said: “You will. You have to.”

“I know.”, she quietly spoke in defeat and it hurt Marcurio to see it, but his next words surprised even him, “Divines, Lyra, who hurt you?”

She quickly turned away, but not fast enough to hide the tears in her eyes.

“I…”, she began, but then closed up again. Marcurio knew she would not reveal anything and frankly, he was still not sure why he wanted to know so badly, but he found himself saying, “Tell me when you’re ready. Just… know that I am here.”

He meant it, surprisingly enough, and he let it show.

It did…something, because Lyra turned around to him with a smile on her face. There were still tears in her eyes, but she smiled through them and teasingly told him: “I only know one word of it, but… did I tell you that I can breathe fire?”

“No!”, he laughed and with an insecure smile, she walked over to the now slowly thawing column of ice, then she spoke: “Yol!”

A flame blew forth from her lips and thawed the ice completely.

That was too much, Marcurio flopped down onto his backside in the dust and laughed himself to tears. When Lyra’s confused stare met his eyes, it just made him laugh even more, almost choke on his amusement. She struggled, but in the end she joined him and whenever one of them had calmed the slightest bit, they looked at each other again and their laughter bubbled to the surface once more.

When they were both out of breath, Marcurio gladly accepted Lyra’s hand helping him to his feet and grinning up at her, he said: “Talk about a gout of arcane fire, heh?”


	4. Chapter 4

“Is that it?”, Marcurio asked Lyra, nodding towards a slightly elevated area filled with flowers and… “Yes, that’s the Atronach Stone.”

He merely nodded and the two of them made their way over to it. He had seen such blessing stones before, but it was still impressive to stand before one. Lyra knelt down in front of the Stone and inclined her head in respect, a deed that surprised him. Even though in the very next moment, he realised that it should not have.

When she rose again, she dug through her pack for the book and produced it, reading aloud: “It is said that those who gain the blessing of the Atronach Stone are rewarded with an Atronach’s resistance against vile magic and in turn are able to work more magic of their own than ever before.”

“Seems a bit too good, don’t you think?”, Marcurio mumbled, yet nevertheless reached for the stone as he glanced at her, “Does it say anything about drawbacks?”

Lyra smirked, her eyes never leaving the page as she then read: “However, those under the sign of the Atronach, once spent, will find it harder to recuperate their magic.”

“No, thanks.”, Marcurio said and quickly retracted his hand, making her laugh next to him, “Unlimited power not good enough for you?”

“No one said anything about it being unlimited.”, Marcurio shot back, then he looked at the stone again and thoughtfully murmured, “Besides, what good is power if it fails me when I need it most?”

“Point taken.”, Lyra grumbled, surprising him with her annoyed words and when he caught her meaning, he shook his head, “That’s not what I meant. As a mage, I need to react quickly. If I deplete my reserves and cannot get my strength back quickly enough, I’d be as good as dead.”

She raised her eyebrows and nodded, so he just had to add a jab: “Doesn’t mean I won’t pester you about practicing your Shouts.”

“There goes hoping.”, Lyra mused and they shared a grin before Marcurio shrugged, “Well, the Stone was not what I hoped it would be, either. But if it’s all the same to you, I’d gather a few flowers. For alchemy.”

He had practically heard her joke in her crooked grin, “Flowers? Who is the unlucky girl?”, so he cut her off before she could have voiced it. Especially because he did not like the first answer that came to mind.

So Marcurio busied himself with carefully plucking and storing away flower petals and roots in the vicinity. As he did so, he glanced at Lyra from time to time, finding her watching their surroundings for threats. But the more he looked to her, his hands stilled and it took him a moment to realise that her steps, too, had stilled. Marcurio finished with the flower in front of him and as he got up, she was still staring up ahead, to the north.

“What is it?”, he asked as he joined her and Lyra took a deep breath, frowned and then muttered, “I don’t know…”

“You do.”, he gently chided, “You just don’t want to tell me.”

The look she gave him for this was full of hurt mixed with anger, but then both drained from her warm brown eyes and were replaced with sadness he had seen far too often in them.

“It’s… a dragon.”, she then whispered, making him quickly look around for the threat, finding, once again, only blue skies, so he asked frantically, “Where?!”

“Over there.”, Lyra pointed to a low hill in the volcanic plain, “That’s her lair. And there is another word wall there.”

“How do you know that?”, Marcurio enquired, but then gave the answer himself, “Your dragon soul?”

She merely nodded, sighed and then looked at him, a swirl of sadness and a pressing question in her gaze, so he answered her unspoken question: “We’ll go there. We’ll fight it and we’ll practice your Shout there.”

She chuckled and it should not have sounded as forlorn as it did. Marcurio found his thoughts racing to find something he could do, but then he just followed her towards the hill in the distance.

All wildlife in the area was gone and it seemed to Marcurio that it had acknowledged the supreme predator – maybe even both of them. Admittedly, he kind of wanted to flee as well when he heard the dragon roar her displeasure.

Lyra’s response was silent but for the singing of Skyforge Steel as she unsheathed her blade.

They reached the hill without any incidents and she began her ascent without fear, just determination.

“Stay behind me.”, she told him over her shoulder, but Marcurio stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. She took a hasty step away and whirled around to face him, her eyes wide… in fear.

“Just…”, he began, unsure what in Oblivion had just passed between them, “Lyra, be careful.”

“Of course.”, she smiled weakly as she agreed, but Marcurio added, “And use your Shouts.”

She sighed, so he insisted: “Use them.”

She nodded, but did not speak, so that did not placate him in the slightest, but he remained silent, simply followed her up the slope to the crest. The further they got, the more Marcurio’s heart pounded in his chest. It was one thing to be ambushed by a dragon on the road, but to willingly walk up to such a beast, when the empty eyes of dead mammoths and a lot of other beings stared up at him, evidence of the dragon’s hunting? That was something else.

If he had to put a name to it, he would probably call it “foolishness”.

That did not change the fact that he was following Lyra right into the lair of a dragon. Marcurio could not help the mad, insecure grin spread on his lips. Maybe he was a fool, but with the Dragonborn at his side, at least he was a well-protected fool.

That knowledge did not still his heart, however, as they stepped out onto the plateau. Bones were strewn all over the crest and across from the wide area, he saw a rounded wall, marks scratched into it. He had read about those word walls once, but never seen one. He almost felt its power all the way over the lair.

“Stop.”, Lyra commanded and only when she bodily stopped him, her arm across his chest, did Marcurio realise that he had taken a step forward, towards the wall… and the dragon perched on top of it, asleep. Or so she wanted them to believe, apparently.

He gulped as he really saw the beast. It seemed even more impressive than the one they had encountered before, why, he could not say. It just did.

“Stay behind me.”, Lyra repeated her command and Marcurio chuckled weakly, “You don’t have to tell me twice. After all, you’re the natural born dragonslayer, not I.”

She shot him an amused glance, then, her head held high, she made her way to the middle of the plateau, bashing her blade against her shield, the echo resounding and ringing in Marcurio’s ears. He felt more than heard the dragon growl at this, then it launched itself up into the sky. It circled them a couple of times, just outside Marcurio’s range, then it flew over them and with a roar unleashed a gust of ice. Lyra barely sidestepped it, but she did. What she did not, was make use of the dragon being between her and the word wall.

“Lyra!”, Marcurio yelled, “Shout it out of the sky!”

She did not spare him a glance and she did not need to. He knew that she did not want to do it, but it was the best chance they had.

“Lyra!”, he yelled yet again as the dragon circled them. As it passed him, it spewed ice at him. Marcurio was neither as quick as Lyra nor as prepared to fight in close quarters. He threw up a ward sloppily, but it did not fully protect him.

He screamed in pain as the cold reached his arm, icy crystals burying themselves deep in his flesh, his skin frozen and cracking, blood oozing forth.

He heard the dragon roar again, even though it sounded different to his ears. Might have been the pain talking, but then he realised that it had not been the dragon. Lyra had shouted her rage out in a fierce battle cry that rattled Marcurio’s head.

He barely possessed the presence of mind to crouch behind a mammoth skull to hide as he tried his best to heal his wounds. It worked, but he would hardly be of use in the remainder of the fight.

He frantically looked for Lyra, afraid for her… when he saw that he need not have bothered. The dragon had circled them once again and had again made the mistake of bringing itself between Lyra and the wall. This time, she did not let it get away.

“Fus Ro Dah!”, her Shout cracked through the air like thunder and it hit the dragon with its full force, the full rage of a dragon protecting something…him. The dragon’s wing crumpled under Lyra’s Shout and it crashed into the ground mere metres away from her. It did not get the chance to even regain its bearings, for Lyra descended on the beast with a force and rage Marcurio would never have liked to be directed at him. She wielded her blade with the grace and efficiency he had come to know from her, but her strikes had a new quality to them now, a fierceness he had not seen in her before.

She did not even sidestep the dragon’s attacks, but instead bashed its snout away with her shield, cracking its razor-sharp teeth as she did so, she slashed at the dragon’s tail when it was swung at her. The beast lay bloodied and weakened, but not yet dead.

Feeling his magic return, Marcurio stepped out of his hiding place and readied himself for a strike about as fierce as Lyra’s were, if different in nature. With a grunt of effort, Marcurio shot unrestrained lightning into the beast’s slashed snout, the magic making its abused muscles cramp and as he stopped, out of energy and breath, Lyra thrust her sword into the creature’s skull, burying it in the dragon to the hilt, its tip protruding from its opposite cheek, spurting blood that steamed in the frigid air.

The dragon died with a last rattling breath and even though Marcurio expected its body to burn away and its soul to be devoured by Lyra, it fascinated and frightened him to see it again. This time, Lyra did not fall to her knees, instead she stood tall, covered in the dragon’s blood. Without a word, she turned to the wall, stared at it for a moment, then she turned around, took a deep breath and Shouted: “Fo Krah Diin!”

Marcurio knew that such a display of power should have scared him, but as it was, all he could do was stare at her power manifesting as frozen crystals high over his head, sparkling in the afternoon light. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And the most impressive victory cry.

Staring, utterly transfixed, Marcurio flinched when her voice, now warm and gentle again, reached his ears: “Are you hurt?”

“No…”, he managed a shaky whisper, “Not anymore.”

“Good.”, Lyra nodded with a smile as she took hold of his arm and helped him to his feet. He had not even known he had sunk to his knees. Belatedly he wrenched out words: “Are you alright?”

“Yes!”, Lyra beamed at him, her cheeks flushed with the exertion of the fight… or maybe the elation of her victory, “Thank you for helping me. We killed the beast.”

“You seemed mighty fine without me.”, Marcurio smirked dejectedly, but she shook her head, “Maybe, but not really. Knowing you were there gave me security. And seeing you hurt…”

Lyra averted her gaze and he gulped before he said: “Thank you.”

“For allowing the beast to get to you?”, she whispered harshly, but Marcurio objected, “For keeping it away from me when I needed to heal my wounds. And for crushing the damn thing.”

She chuckled shyly at this, then she nodded towards the dragon’s skeleton and asked: “Have you ever seen a word wall up close?”

“Never.”, Marcurio admitted and eagerly followed her, staring at the characters etched into the smooth stone, “Can you translate it?”

“Not all of it.”, Lyra revealed, then she pointed her gauntlet at one of the symbols, “This is Diin,”

As Lyra spoke just behind him, her breath ghosted over his cheek, but it was ice-cold.

“Sorry.”, she said and took a step back, “It means “freeze”. But other than that, no. Just a few words.”

Marcurio nodded and while he did understand that Lyra left his side, he could not tear his eyes away from the word wall. It was fascinating. He had no idea what it meant, any of it. Yet it was fascinating. His fingers traced the symbol Lyra had indicated and he spoke under his breath: “Diin.”

Nothing happened. Of course not. But knowing that the word held power was somehow exhilarating.

When Marcurio looked around to find Lyra, he saw her kneeling next to the dragon and he went to join her.

“I found these.”, she stated and nodded at a pile of magicka potions and books next to her, all bedded on a cloak much warmer than his, “I thought you might like them.”

“I do.”, he nodded, donning the brown cloak, “Thank you.”

Lyra just gave him a smile, then resumed her work on the dragon’s skeleton. Now that he was looking, he saw her wrench free a bone. If his anatomy lessons did not fool him, this had to be the dragon equivalent of the hyoid, but it was massive.

“Here.”, she smiled and put the bone into his hand. Its weight was so unexpected that Marcurio almost dropped it, but he managed to take a hold of it and then stammered: “F-for me?”

“Of course.”, Lyra chuckled, “You killed it, you get a souvenir.”

“You killed it.”, he corrected and reluctantly offered the bone back to her, but she just laughed, throwing her head back and then pushing the offered “souvenir” back towards him.

“Marcurio, I am the Dragonborn.”, she then reminded him, “I have been attacked by dragons almost every day. I have two chests full of scales and bones.”

At this he could only stare.

“Two chests…full?”, he then mumbled under his breath before he burst out, “Two chests full?!”

“Calm down.”, Lyra flinched, “I have not yet found a use for them.”

Marcurio huffed, but then smiled: “That’s why you laughed when I tried to get the scale.”

She merely nodded and got up from her crouch, looking at their surroundings again before she suggested: “Kynesgrove or Windhelm are not too far away, if we move now, we might reach either of them.”

“Windhelm sounds promising.”, Marcurio decided, “Should find an alchemy table there and sell what we don’t need.”

“Agreed.”, Lyra stated and made her way down the slope they had come up. On their way northwest, Marcurio heard birdsong again and realised that the animals must have moved back after the dragon was gone now. Their kind coming back from the dead surely had confused not only the people living in Skyrim… or all of Tamriel for that matter.

They reached the river soon and Marcurio wondered how they should cross it.

“Does your map know a bridge somewhere conveniently close to, well, here?”, he asked and Lyra consulted the worn piece of parchment.

“That way.”, she indicated and they set out, not sticking to the roads, of course. He was following Lyra.

Dusk was approaching, making Marcurio wonder whether they would make it to Windhelm before dark.

It was the only excuse he could find for not seeing the dark figure sooner. When he did, it was too late.

With a desperate lunge he tried to throw himself in front of the unsuspecting Lyra, bring up a ward between her and her attacker, but all he did was tackle the dunmer after his blade had buried itself deeply into Lyras shoulder, exploiting a hardly visible chink in her armour. It was the last thing the elf ever did.

Marcurio ignored Lyra’s shout of pain as best he could and roasted the thief alive, leaving nothing but smouldering skin.

“Lyra!”, he then called out, seeing her sitting in the grass, her sword arm hanging limply by her side. She was shaking violently and the unhealthy sheen of sweat told Marcurio that she had been poisoned. The dagger had to go before he could help her. Without a word, Marcurio set to work, he stepped behind Lyra and quickly unbuckled her cuirass.

Or he would have.

“Fus!”

Instead he was flung away from her, falling to the ground and hitting his head hard enough that pain exploded in the back of it, robbing him of all senses. When he regained them, he blinked at her, but could not believe his eyes. Hers were wide in… fear. Of him.

“Lyra, you’ve been poisoned.”, Marcurio argued as he staggered towards her, but she crawled away from him. Why, Divines?

“I need to get that dagger out before I can heal your wound, but for that I have to see it.”, he calmly told her, ignoring his heart racing with concern and worry at her reaction.

“I just want to help you.”, Marcurio pleaded, “Heal you.”

She nodded shakily but when he advanced again, she shied away once more.

“Lyra…”, he asked and she responded, her voice barely audible, “You do not take off my armour. I do.”

All he could do was stare, anger boiling up in him, but underneath, he knew she had a reason for this demand. He just did not know if he could tolerate to learn that reason.

“May I help you take it off?”, he enquired, his voice flat and he waited until Lyra had nodded before he went over to her. It was hard to wait for her and Marcurio had to ball his fists far too tightly in order not to reach for her, but he managed to remain still until Lyra began lifting the cuirass off her shoulders. She did not succeed on her own, for that the wound was too fresh and the poison too strong, so Marcurio reached out to help her, but he warned her by gently asking: “Let me help you.”

She nodded and together, they lifted the cuirass away. Crouching in front of her, Marcurio inspected the wound.

“Bloody bastard.”, he cursed the dead thief, or whatever he had been, behind him, “The dagger is dirty and coated with poison. I can remove it, a potion will take care of the poison. But before I can fully heal the wound, it will have to be cleaned. We’ll need supplies for that we don’t have.”

“Windhelm has them.”, Lyra spoke through teeth gritted from pain and Marcurio replied, “Yes. Can you make it there?”

“If we get rid of the poison.”, she assessed and he sadly reminded her, “The dagger first.”

“Do it.”, she ordered and clenched her teeth, but Marcurio murmured, “I’m sorry.”

With that he yanked the dagger out of her shoulder, wrenching a grunt of pain from Lyra, but otherwise she remained still. He then healed her wound just enough to stop the bleeding and dug through his pack to produce an antidote. She gulped it down and afterwards hissed from the foul taste.

“Sorry for that, too.”, Marcurio said, “Can you walk?”

“Help me into my armour.”, she spoke as a reply, but he shook his head, “You’re wounded, Lyra, you…”

“Help me into my armour.”, she growled, stressing every word and he knew to disobey would be foolish, would indeed unleash the wrath of a dragon. He did not want to be on the receiving end of that, so he did as he had been told.

 

Once strapped back into her armour, Lyra came to her feet with a grunt of effort and then resumed her way towards Windhelm without a word. She was in pain, he knew that, so Marcurio was not surprised by her silence. But in this silence, the look of terror in her eyes haunted him, terror she had felt because of him.


	5. Chapter 5

Dusk’s last light saw them into the city of Windhelm and even though Marcurio had learned to despise some of the “true Sons of Skyrim” there, he was glad to have reached it before dark.

“Come on, the inn is right there.”, he urged Lyra on and she nodded, “I know.”

The only words she had spoken to him ever since they had resumed their trek to this gods-forsaken city. But he was grateful for the warm air in the inn and the smell of food. He made his way over to the counter and asked: “Greetings. We’ll need two rooms, meals and baths and some utensils to treat wounds, please.”

“Sure thing.”, the Nord sneered and Marcurio remembered, all of a sudden, why he usually avoided Windhelm as best he could.

“Listen…”, he began angrily, but was interrupted by Lyra’s voice, much too frail for his liking, “Elda, I was wounded. Could you give us what we asked?”

“Hail, Companion!”, Elda the inn keeper suddenly changed her tone and Marcurio was left to stare at Lyra. Dragonborn and a Companion? Was that woman full of surprises?

“I’d love to, but we only have one room left.”, the inn keeper’s voice then forced Marcurio to pay attention again. He nervously looked at Lyra, not knowing how she would take that wonderful bit of information, so he was not surprised to see her wince, but she did surprise him when she spoke: “Just the one then.”

“Right away.”, Elda almost stumbled over herself with hospitality, “You can use the first room on the right to treat your wounds, then eat while I’ll have Susanna heat water for you.”

“Thank you.”, Marcurio said, his voice filled with honey he imagined to be poison and the inn keeper understood, he saw it in the harsh gesture she used to summon her waitress. Not that he cared. He only cared about the supplies she then handed him and then his attention was solely on Lyra. Her gait was slow and clumsy and she let her arm hang limply by her side, it was worrying him.

Once the door to the room – their room – was closed behind them, Marcurio carefully asked her: “Can you get out of your armour yourself or…?”

“I’ll manage.”, she grunted and proceeded to heave the chunk of metal from her body, all but dropping it to the floor as she slumped into one of the chairs. Marcurio said nothing, merely dragged the other chair over and whispered, very uncomfortable in his skin: “You’ll have to get rid of the shift too so that I can get to the wound and wash it…”

“Uh-huh.”, was her almost silent answer and with clumsy, clearly painful movements she did as he had asked. It was difficult to not reach out and help her, but Marcurio knew better by now, so he busied himself with arranging and rearranging the meagre supplies they had been given. When Lyra sat in front of him, her decency barely protected by a breast band, he gulped and fixed his gaze onto the wound, trying his best to ignore everything else. But gods, that was difficult.

Only the memory of the look of fear he had seen in her eyes brought him back to reason and made him announce his course of action: “I’ll have to clean the wound. I’m sorry if that hurts, then I’ll heal it the rest of the way.”

He hardly dared touch her skin as he dabbed away the dried blood, but he was forced to when he had to dig into the stab wound. He announced everything he did, worried he would somehow scare her if he did not. It did not really register that if he did, she could fling him to the other side of the room with a Shout or her bare hands. At the moment, she was just a woman he had somehow terrified and he hated himself for it, so he was walking on eggshells here.

“Marcurio.”, her voice made him flinch and he immediately withdrew his hands to stare at her, worried he might have done something wrong, “I am not made of glass.”

“I know that.”, he said, only to meet her kind, yet sad smile, “Yet you treat me as if I was.”

“I…”, he began, but she stopped him with a calm gesture. He would not have known what to say anyway.

“It’s only… difficult for me if I cannot see what you are doing. If you are… behind me.”, Lyra then slowly revealed, her eyes closed and teeth clenched as she spoke, “It’s…”

“You don’t have to tell me.”, Marcurio said and from the relieved look she then gave him, he knew it had been right to reassure her, “You tell me when you’re ready. Not a moment sooner.”

“Thank you.”, she breathed and he smiled at her, then resumed washing her wound.

“It’s clean now.”, he announced minutes later, “I’ll heal it and then it’ll be just a scar.”

Doing so, he closed his eyes for a moment, only to open them and look at Lyra’s abdomen.

“Just another scar.”, he told her and tried his best to tear his eyes away from her. She was…not the kind of woman he had gotten to know before. There were scars criss-crossing every bit of her skin he could see, but beneath that was steel made flesh and power he had a hard time ascribing to a human being. It was… different, but beautiful in its own right.

“Uhm…”, he stammered and then quickly turned away, “The arm should be as good as new. How do you feel?”

“Better.”, Lyra replied, her voice hoarse and doing things to him Marcurio tried to ignore, “Let’s… uh, let’s get dinner.”

He had not felt this smooth in a long time and Marcurio made a face at himself.

“I’ll get dinner.”, he then said and only glanced at her to see her nod as he went out the door. Fled, coward.

Elda clearly was not happy to serve him the requested meal, but she curtly informed him that their baths would be ready once they had eaten. Marcurio only hoped they had two rooms for that at least, because he had no idea how he should spend a night next to Lyra without doing something…foolish.

He was no innocent, he had dallied with one woman or another, some of them even while in their employ. But he knew he should not with her. Or he was just being foolish now.

When Lyra joined him at the table, he had not reached any sort of conclusion on the matter, but he smiled, as did she, yet that was about it. They hardly talked, only to pass the bread or the mead and he thought they both sighed in relief when Susanna informed them that their baths were ready. He was glad that they had indeed two separate rooms and while Marcurio disrobed, he wondered how the coming night would pass.

Sinking into the hot water, he figured that her silence would at least keep him from being stupid, but he missed her laughter, her jabs at him. He let his head fall against the ledge of the wooden tub and muttered: “Stupid.”

What kind of stupid was he really? He had no answer and furiously washing the grit of travel out of his hair did not help him in the slightest. When the water had gotten tepid, he left the bath and unbidden, the horrified look in Lyra’s eyes came back to him. In his worry about her, he had not thought about it, but now it was back in full force. He could not subject her to spend the night in the same room, so he would find another arrangement. He did not really want to, but…

Marcurio stopped dead when he entered their room and saw Lyra sitting on the bed. There was only one bed. Well, that was awkward. He would definitely be sleeping somewhere else, even if it was on the floor.

“I…”, he began, but had no words. Lyra smiled at him and shrugged, “We have made camp together for weeks now. It’s one night, Marcurio. We’ll live.”

He kind of doubted that, but said nothing to it, just enquired: “The arm is still alright?”

“Yes.”, Lyra sighed, then stood up to meet him, “Would you please stop being so awkward?”

Taken aback, Marcurio stared at her and she snorted with amusement: “I told you I am not made of glass.”

“I terrified you.”, he whispered, staring into her eyes that once again held sadness, “You Shouted at me. And you meant it.”

“I am sorry.”, Lyra mumbled, closing her eyes, “I…”

“You don’t have to apologise.”, Marcurio gently interrupted, but he was ill prepared for her outburst, “Of course I do!”

She towered over him, her whole form tense and he saw the muscles in her arms and neck ripple with her agitation, her breath coming out in harsh gulps.

“I could have hurt you.”, Lyra growled, “I almost did. And all you did was take care of me. I owe you more than an apology.”

Marcurio blinked at her, unsure what to say when she bid him: “Sit down, please. I’ve… never told anyone.”

His eyes widened at this and he stiffly did as he was told, sat on the bed and waited for her to do the same. Lyra dragged her hands over her shorn head, pacing up and down the room, glancing at him from time to time, remnants of her fear back in her eyes.

“You don’t have to te…”, Marcurio began, but she cut him off, her voice gentle and barely audible, “I grew up as a hunter’s daughter. My father hunted and fished around Winterhold for years before he met my mother and afterwards they settled down, he hunted and fished, she used the pelts and bones. They had me…taught me their trades.”

Once again she dragged her hands over her head, then she sat down. Marcurio saw the corded muscles in her arms shift as she looped them around her knees and even though he knew he was in the presence of a Companion of Ysgramor, the Dragonborn even, right now, sitting on the bed, hugging her knees to herself and clad in simple trousers and a thin shirt, her feet bare, she seemed like a young girl. She was taller and much stronger than him, but at the moment, she seemed defenceless.

“When I was old enough, they sent me to empty the fish traps we had. One day I did and… I…”

At that point she stopped, rested her head on her knees – hiding. Marcurio gulped and wanted to do something, but he did not dare touch her and could think of nothing else. Lyra then took a deep breath and as she looked up again, stared into the Void as she spoke.

“I found them slaughtered. The thieves were still there and they, they… One cut away my dress, the other laughed all the while and both touched my back while I did… nothing. I was too scared to do anything.”

“Lyra…”, was all Marcurio managed to breathe through his throat, choked up with disgust and worry, but she gave him a small smile, then lowered her gaze to her knees and continued, “I had closed my eyes when the door burst open. I did not look, but I heard fighting, yelling, men dying. I only looked again when I felt a cloak being wrapped around me. It was Kodlak’s cloak. He and Jergen were there because the Companions had been asked to root out the thieves terrorising the people of Winterhold. They let me pack a few things, then took me with them to Whiterun. Kodlak carried me all the way back.”

At this, she gave him a rueful smile, laced with sadness, but also happiness as she ended: “I grew up to be a Companion, had brothers and sisters and a second father wiser than anyone I have ever known. I was lucky.”

“In part.”, Marcurio allowed, then shook his head, “Lyra, I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.”, she smiled, even though it was sad, “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m sorry nonetheless.”, he insisted and she chuckled, “Thank you then. But it could have been much worse. I tried to never acknowledge that, but even while leaving our cabin in Winterhold I knew that I had been lucky.”

Marcurio only sighed, then slowly nodded and bit his lip trying to find the words to ask the question nagging at him.

“Out with it.”, Lyra chided amused and he laughed dejectedly, then looked into her eyes and forced himself to ask, “Knowing that… are you sure you want to sleep in the same room?”

Lyra frowned, then she smirked and told him: “I have shared a bed with a man before.”

Marcurio stared, then stammered and felt a blush of embarrassment engulf him fully as he muttered: “I just assumed…I, sorry, I…”

She grinned and shook her head before she elaborated: “I have spent some nights in company, but… I always dictated what happened. No one ever touched my back.”

He frowned in surprise and Lyra grinned crookedly as she added: “I am a warrior. Everyone just assumed I liked being the strong brute manhandling them.”

Now he felt his eyes widen and she snorted, her lips curling in anger: “I am tall, strong. I look every bit the warrior I am, I know that. But every man assumed I was a brute anyway, battle-hardened and wanting to be in control. I needed to, but being just pegged for it because of how I look was…”

She stopped there, then glanced sideways at him and murmured: “You are the only one who ever assumed differently.”

Marcurio’s mouth was so dry he had a hard time finding words, but when he did, he said: “I am also the only one who knows about… your past.”

“True.”, Lyra allowed before she stared off into the distance, not seeing the wall of their room, “But that’s not the reason.”

Looking back at him, she whispered: “You just see more, I think.”

“I’d like to think so.”, Marcurio smiled, then nervously licked his lips and asked her, “Do you want to go back?”

“Where?”, Lyra asked, but her wide eyes told him she knew, yet he explained, “It did not seem like you had a chance to properly say goodbye. Do you want to go back to your parents’ cabin? Winterhold is not far…”

“I…”, she began, then bit her lip before she said in a small voice, “Yes. Thank you.”

“Then our destination is set.”, Marcurio decided, “Let’s enjoy the fact that neither of us has to take watch tonight.”

“Let’s indeed.”, Lyra quietly answered, then settled into the bed and left it to Marcurio to douse the candles. In the dark, he heard her breathing even out within minutes and he knew she was fast asleep. The exertions of the day, being wounded and relieving such a gruesome tale, Marcurio figured. While Lyra slept, he found no rest.

So he lay there in the darkness, listening to her breathe and contemplated the mystery she was. Sure, she was the Dragonborn, hero of Nord prophecy, but that really was the least interesting thing about her. She was strong and knew it, her prowess in battle and her scars bore witness to that. But underneath… she was vulnerable. Although not as vulnerable as he would have believed after what she had just told him. That woman was a mystery.

Marcurio looked to the side, studied her face in her sleep and saw her mumble to herself. He did not understand the words, but he recognised the “earthquake”. That was when understanding finally came to him. She was speaking in the Dragon language, her mumbling an attenuated Shout.

Marcurio grinned as he realised that, but his grin froze when the walls began to shake and her breath frosted over the furs.

“Lyra.”, he tried to wake her and was already reaching out to her before he stopped himself just short of her shoulder. Then he remembered that it was not touch she shied, but a touch on her back, yet he decided to take hold of her hand. Just to be safe.

“Lyra, wake up.”, he tried to rouse her, but he only managed to increase her agitation, still he did not relent, “Lyra!”

Her eyes snapped open and Marcurio braced himself for a punch or a Shout, but instead she sleepily blinked up at him and mumbled: “Marcurio?”

He was not prepared for the feelings wrapping themselves around his heart as he heard his name spoken in that fashion…by her.

“You were dreaming.”, he slowly told her, hoping none of the turmoil he felt was showing, “I think you spoke in the dragon language, because you shook the bed. And breathed ice.”

“Oh.”, she murmured, her embarrassment almost comical, “I speak in Dovah-Zul in my sleep?”

“Apparently.”, Marcurio smiled and started to say something else, but to his surprise, Lyra had already fallen back asleep…still holding his hand and gripping it tightly.

Marcurio was not willing to ponder the bright smile on his lips as he realised this, he just enjoyed it and laid back, trying to sleep. But feeling her right next to him, her breath ghosting over his fingers and her hand around his, his heart beat far too fast and too loudly for him to find rest.

 

There, in the dark of their shared room, Marcurio had to admit what he had tried to talk himself out of for the last couple of days. But it had been no use and so he finally accepted the undeniable truth: He was in love.


	6. Chapter 6

“Lyra…”, he began to speak, but then thought better of it. Marcurio had no idea how to say this. He did not even know if he should say this at all…

A glance at her told him that she had not heard him over the crunching of their boots in the icy snow. Good, he had gotten away. But he could not help stare at her, for she had foregone her heavy armour in favour of thick furs to stave off the cold. They were thick enough to help her in case of an attack, a bear maybe, but they did not hide her as her armour did. Marcurio did not know whether to be grateful for it or worried.

Maybe both. Both sounded about right.

“Out with it.”, Lyra asked him, making him flinch and she grinned, “You have sighed about ten times during the last hundred feet.”

“I have not!”, he gasped indignantly, but she merely smiled and deadpanned, “Have, too.”

“No…!”, he insisted, but he knew himself that his weak voice belied his defiance.

“You have.”, Lyra reminded him again, “So speak your mind, lest you explode.”

He just raised an eyebrow at her, but as she giggled happily, he had to join her. Yet he sobered quickly when he tried to find words for his enquiry.

“Lyra…”, he began yet again, then shut his mouth before he decided to just go with it, damn the consequences, “You told me about your…let’s say, experiences with men. You did not trust any of them?”

Silence hit his ears harder than a Shout could have. Slowly, Lyra turned to him, then she asked, her voice low: “So…?”

“So…”, Marcurio spoke slowly, “Did you?”

Now it was her turn to sigh and looking out over the sea in front of them she finally said: “No.”

“That’s why you did not allow them to touch your back?”, Marcurio concluded, “Why you always chose men that would be content with being “manhandled”, as you put it.”

Lyra looked away and he saw the tension in her shoulders before he heard it in her hissed question as well: “Where are you going with this?”

“We need to find you a man you can trust.”, Marcurio simply stated and as she looked at him in shock, he felt obligated to elaborate, “If you trust the one you’re with, it’s… different. More. If you trust her, I mean him, enough to let go, if you trust that he will catch you, that he won’t hurt you, it’s…deeper.”

Unbidden, thoughts about a certain woman came back to his mind and he pushed them away with a force before he mumbled: “Somehow.”

“I trust my Shield-Brothers…”, Lyra slowly said and Marcurio gulped, not prepared for the pang of jealousy that hit hard in his heart, then he asked, “Enough to take them to your bed and turn your back on them?”

She did not even need to answer that, the emptiness in her eyes and the way they grew wide were all the answer he could have ever needed. He knew that he had been cruel, but he also knew that he could not take it back, so he simply shrugged and promised: “So we’ll find a man you trust for you.”

When Lyra’s eyes met his, again so uncharacteristically vulnerable, heat flushed Marcurio together with the thought “I am volunteering”.

He had to bite his tongue, hard, not to say that, though. He knew he should not say that. So he did not, but it was just about the hardest thing he had ever done. At least it seemed that way to him.

The silence around them, between them, was deafening, so Marcurio tried: “Where to?”

Stupid, but the only thing he had been able to think of.

“Just a little further. If memory serves.”, Lyra told him and resumed their already hours-long trek into the wilderness of Winterhold. Then, barely audible, so quietly that what little wind was there had almost caught the words from her lips, she mumbled: “I hope for such a man…”

As did Marcurio. He just hoped it would be him, too. He did not say that aloud and instead followed behind Lyra silently, even though he despised the awkward silences between them. Especially the fact that they had become so frequent as of late.

That was why he tried to make conversation without thinking about it. If he had, maybe he would have stopped himself before blurting out: “You remember any of the sights here? If there are any?”

“I used to walk this exact path with my father when he wanted to sell what my mother had sewn from his pelts.”, Lyra spoke lowly, but he could tell there was a smile on her face. It was sad, as her smiles were so often since the last day, but it was a smile.

“And sometimes we rowed out to fish from right over there.”, she added and indicated a barely recognisable dock in the snow and ice, and to it a dinghy was tied, “That’s our boat.”

“It’s still there?”, Marcurio marvelled, staring first at the boat, then at her, which was the only reason why he saw her change direction to head to the dinghy. Still he had to hurry to keep up with her, but he reached the boat after her nonetheless. Lyra knelt next to it and rifled through what little was left, some rope, two rudders, a sack of cloth… and from it, she pulled a dagger. It was an abysmally old and worn thing, blunt even from the looks of it, but Lyra clutched it to her chest and blinked a few times as she told him: “Father taught me how to fight with this.”

“He used to be a soldier?”, Marcurio asked and offered his hand to pull her to her feet, unnecessarily of course, but she took it anyway with a smile, “Not like an Imperial man would have been a soldier, no. But he once told me that he had wanted to be a guard before he became a hunter instead. I never knew why.”

Not sure why, Marcurio told her: “My father was a soldier. Never stopped being one even after he retired because of his injuries.”

He felt her inquiring gaze on him acutely, painfully, and he looked away. But his attention snapped back to Lyra when she warmly said: “That is a story for another day. When you’re ready.”

He nodded shakily, but then smiled despite the uncomfortable memories that were surfacing: “As is the story of the woman I trusted.”

Lyra inclined her head, then looked up the slope they had just descended, unseeingly staring into the Void, gripping her Father’s old iron dagger tightly in her hand, too tightly.

“It’s just up ahead, isn’t it?”, Marcurio asked, referring to her parents’ cabin and she nodded without a word, but with unshed tears in her eyes. He heard her gulp shakily, then she squared her shoulders and walked up the slope, her steps full of force and… bravado. He had no idea how he recognised it, but the moment he did, Marcurio knew it was nothing more than a brave façade. He had thought about giving her privacy to revisit her old home, but right then, he knew that he could not leave her alone in this.

She might be a warrior, a fighter… a Companion and the Dragonborn, but she would break.

So he hurriedly caught up to her and almost ran into her back as she suddenly stopped, as if rooted to the spot. That was when he saw it, the cabin. It looked abandoned, disused, but intact.

“I guess no one wanted to live out here.”, Marcurio guessed, but Lyra shook her head before she whispered, “No one wanted to live in that cabin.”

His eyes went wide as he stared at her dark words.

“Trust me.”, she spoke, but then set out again, “Or see for yourself.”

Marcurio followed her, not knowing what to expect, but with a knot in his gut. When they reached the door, he could see that it had never been very sturdy, just enough to hold off the cold weather, but it had been bashed in by the bandits with a brutal force he had seen so often in low bandits. This was no different.

The inside, however, was.

“Oh Stendarr…”, Marcurio gasped as he stepped inside behind Lyra. All the air rushed out of his lungs and his stomach clenched painfully as he saw the carnage. For that was the only word he could think of. Everything was spattered with blood. It had dried and frozen, had turned a garish brown on the walls, the rug, the chairs, the table… everything.

Only then did Marcurio see the arm. It had been severed, lay on the rug in a frozen pool of blood, feet away from the body of a man… Lyra’s father. And next to him, the remains of her mother. Both had been preserved by the cold and salty air, which only made their horrible wounds still visible to them. It had not been a quick death, for neither of them.

Marcurio averted his eyes, bile rising in this throat, when his gaze dropped to the floor in front of him… to the tatters of a girl’s dress. It was a light, dusty pink, warm enough to keep away the cold and the wind and the cloth had been cut in the back. Marcurio gagged when he realised that this had been the very dress Lyra had worn that day. He barely swallowed back the bile, but the turmoil in his stomach remained.

“Lyra…”, he whispered, his voice hoarse and painful to use. If he could barely hold it together…?

But Lyra stood tall, her eyes on the bodies of her parents and her shoulders squared in defiance. Too tense.

Marcurio only understood a split second before she broke. A sob was wrenched from Lyra’s throat, a sound so deep and raw it spurred Marcurio into action simply out of necessity, still he was a bit too late. Lyra dropped to her knees, but he was there a second later and without thought gathered her in his arms.

“Shush, love.”, Marcurio whispered against her temple and gently stroked her back, “I’m here for you, Lyra.”

It just made her cry harder. Her face hidden against his neck, Lyra clawed her fingers into his heavy coat to steady her shaking form. To no avail, so Marcurio simply kept whispering sweet, reassuring nothings to her and held her close, stroking her back to soothe her.

He stopped when he realised that this could not have soothed her in the slightest… but as it had, he resumed his tender strokes and simply knelt there, a crying Lyra in his arms. Trying to shut out their gruesome surroundings, Marcurio closed his eyes and instead concentrated on her, to help her as best he could.

“I’m sorry.”, he whispered against her brow as her sobs slowly quieted down, “I am so sorry, love.”

“No…”, Lyra sniffled and slowly eased out of his embrace, “No, Marcurio. Thank you.”

Blinking, he stared at her and it earned him a laugh, sad and still wet from her tears, but it was a laugh as she explained: “I said good-bye. I needed this.”

In reply, he nodded and only belatedly caught himself stroking her back again. But she did not flinch in the slightest, did not show any fear. Maybe it was all still too raw for her to register something like this, Marcurio wondered, or her coat was too thick to even allow his touich to reach her. But he decided not to take any chances, so he ceased his touch and instead took a hold of her hand. Her fingers wrapped around his without any hesitation and when she looked at him, a cautious smile on her lips, Marcurio saw what he had hoped for: Trust.

He looked away to steady himself, so as not to do something very, very foolish… and his gaze fell to the mangled body of her mother. Oh Mara, how could he have even thought about this… in their current surroundings. Akatosh, he was ashamed. Thinking about…

“Do you want to bury them?”, Marcurio asked and felt Lyra squeeze his hand painfully firmly before she sniffled and stated: “No. They are at rest. And now, so am I. Let them rest.”

“Alright.”, he nodded, in turn giving her fingers under his a gentle tug go get her to her feet as he stood up and asked, “Is there anything you want to take with you?”

“There is.”, she nodded, a smile slowly spreading on her lips, then she went to another room with sure steps. Marcurio glanced around the door frame and saw her open a drawer in the bed room. She did not even need to think or search for the item, she just opened a drawer and reached in as if she had done that every day for the last couple of years. But she had not.

His heart heavy, Marcurio watched Lyra close the drawer with a quiet sound that yet rang with finality.

Together they left the house and closed the door as best they could in its desolate state and after a last lingering look at the cabin, Lyra left it behind.

She headed back for Windhelm, where there was still an inn room waiting for them and he knew from her bearing, from the light smile on her face that she really, truly was at peace now. At least with the fate of her parents, as for the man she could trust completely…

Marcurio hoped she had already found that man in him, but he did not dare speak of that… not yet.

He would wait. And until the right moment presented itself, he would enjoy travelling with her, enjoy the banter and the jabs. That was why he pointed to her closed fist and asked: “What did you take?”

“Mother’s amulet.”, Lyra smiled and showed the golden necklace to him. His heart skipped a beat and then thundered to life painfully as he tried to speak nonchalantly: “Her amulet of Mara?”

“She proposed to my father.”, Lyra laughed as she directed her gaze to the horizon, “And who knows? Maybe I’ll have need of it someday.”

 

“Someday.”, Marcurio echoed quietly and followed her back to Windhelm. Yet his thoughts were far away, even though they solely involved the woman right next to him.


	7. Chapter 7

“Hail, Companion!”, another villager called out to Lyra as they made their way south to Rorikstead.

“Greetings.”, she spoke with a smile to the villager, an old farmer judging from his ragged looks, and he returned her smile, but as soon as they had passed him, Lyra’s smile faltered.

“What in Oblivion?”, Marcurio mumbled as he looked at the old man merrily whistling a tune while Lyra frowned, “Does anyone here even know your name?”

“Everyone does.”, Lyra muttered with an unhappy grin, “They just choose not to use it.”

“But… why?”, he enquired, only to see her shrug, “Maybe “Companion” is more easily remembered.”

“Still…”, Marcurio grumbled as they walked on towards the small village on their way to Whiterun, “I understand that the Companions are known here, but this?”

“It’s always been like that.”, Lyra tried to reassure him, but that attempt failed horribly, “It’s the same in the Legion! “Oi, soldier, do this and don’t ask why!” It’s stupid. Everybody has a name.”

Lyra stopped next to him, effectively killing his rant and just with her gaze, she asked a question. He could not ignore it, but neither did he want to answer it. Still…

Marcurio took a deep breath and looked around, but as there was no one in their immediate vicinity, he had no excuse.

“I used to be in the Legion. Battlemage.”, he began an explanation, “But it was not for me. I guess you can imagine.”

“You not responding well to someone barking orders you think stupid?”, Lyra smirked, “Perish the thought, Marcurio.”

He laughed and nodded, but then felt compelled to add: “So I bided my time and then left as soon as I could. There… was a woman I trusted and I had hoped that she would leave with me, make a life with me. But…”

“She did not.”, Lyra murmured and Marcurio nodded, pawing at the ground with his boots, “Exactly, she did not. Because she had never meant to built a life with me. I wasn’t even the only man for her at that time.”

“I’m sorry.”, Lyra said and touched his shoulder, but he shrugged, for one to feign indifference and also to get rid of her touch that was too much of a comfort at that moment, “It is what it is.”

She grimaced and it made him chuckle before he resumed their way into Rorikstead, but as soon as Lyra joined him, he allowed: “It changed me, made me bitter. It’s the reason why I started travelling, living as a mercenary. But I promised myself that she would not take away my chance to love.”

He could not help it, he had to look at Lyra as he said that and neither was he able to stop the next words tumbling from his lips in a low whisper: “Nothing’s ever certain but the importance of love.”

Lyra averted her eyes, as did Marcurio, biting his lip and internally screaming at himself for having spoken at all, but he stood by it.

“You’re right.”, Lyra’s quiet voice pulled him from his ranting, “Life is too short not to love. There is alw…”

“Companion!”, a man shouted and it made Marcurio flinch. With a barely contained sigh of anger, he turned towards the man that came running to them and even though he saw Lyra’s grimace, her voice was soft and her smile friendly as she enquired: “What can we do for you?”

“Oh, it’s you, thank the Gods.”, the man panted and tried hard to catch his breath before he addressed her again, “Dragonborn, we need your help. There’s wolves in the cellar of the inn.”

“How did you manage that?”, Marcurio asked incredulously, but he was ignored as the man asked of Lyra, “Get rid of them.”

“Sure, Mralki.”, Lyra promised, “But… I don’t know how much damage they might have already done. Or how much fighting them in close quarters will do.”

“Just kill them, Dragonborn.”, the man asked and turned around. Just left them there.

“Please and thank you.”, Marcurio muttered under his breath and sneered at the retreating man, but Lyra just chuckled and nodded towards the house in front of them, “Come on. The sooner we get rid of them, the sooner we’ll be on our way to Whiterun.”

“Or, you know…”, Marcurio suggested, “Let the blasted things be and go directly to Whiterun.”

“No.”, Lyra outright refused, but he shrugged, so she firmly stated, “I am a Companion, I have to help them. It’s the honourable thing to do.”

“As would be asking for your help, saying please and thank you for killing the monsters. Wolves, pah!”

“What are you trying to say?”, Lyra growled, straightening up to her full, impressive height in front of him, so Marcurio gulped out of instinct, but still, he was too furious not to stand his ground, “Only that you’re the Companion, the Dragonborn for everyone around. Just here to do their dirty work, apparently.”

Lyra shrank under his words and Marcurio’s eyes widened as he suddenly realised that he had hit the mark without even meaning to.

“Hang on.”, he gasped, “That’s it, right? That’s why you did not want me to know that you’re the Dragonborn. Because you thought I would not… see you.”

Lyra smiled shyly and turned away, Marcurio even swore that she was blushing as she whispered: “I told you, you see more than others.”

“Lyra…”, he began, not able to put his thoughts into words, but she held up a hand to stop him and instead spoke quietly, “It’s alright. At least you see me for who I am.”

With those words she left him there and proceeded to the inn, but Marcurio could only stare at her and it took him long moments to regain the use of his legs in order to follow her into the wooden structure. Inside, Lyra pointed towards stairs in the back and asked with a grin: “Ready to roast some wolves?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”, Marcurio smiled at her and together, they descended the steps. They could hear yelps and growls behind the wooden door and with barely a glance at each other, Lyra took the lead, her shield at the ready to defend them while Marcurio summoned sparks into his fingertips. Roast them indeed.

Lyra looked at him once again, that single glance enough to discuss strategy, then she pushed open the door. In the dim light down there, Marcurio first saw nothing but glowing orbs – the wolves’ eyes and without missing a beat, both Marcurio and Lyra unleashed their powers.

“Fo Krah Diin!”, her voice rang out, shaking the beams of the cellar with its might as frost ghosted over the wood and the wolves alike, while his fingertips shot lightning at them, making their maws twitch and their flanks spasm uncontrollably as the wolves died a quick, unfortunate death. Their furs were covered in frost, but the bodies were steaming.

“Why settle for just stabbing your foes when you can roast them in a gout of arcane fire?”, he grinned and then glanced sideways at Lyra, “Or freeze them on their feet.”

“Indeed.”, she smiled at him for just a second before her eyes roamed the cellar, looking for any threat they might have missed before. It was a mystery to Marcurio how the four now dead wolves in front of them had made their way into the cellar, but as they combed the place for another intruder, he got his answer.

“That idiot left the door open overnight, am I right?”, Marcurio muttered as they happened upon the trap door in the back of the cellar, probably used to easily store delivered goods from the road in the cellar.

“Would not be the first time…”, Lyra sighed and went back to the wolves, but Marcurio stopped her with an incredulous question, “He’s done that before?”

“Mralki is…”, she began, but then just shrugged.

“He’s an idiot.”, Marcurio firmly stated, but then added furiously, “And a bastard. How many times have you cleared up his mess for him? And never seen anything for it?”

The way Lyra bashfully righted her perfectly set helmet told him everything he needed to know.

“That bastard.”, he hissed and ignored Lyra’s silent protest, even pushed her raised hand aside, “He cannot ask this of you and never give anything back.”

“It’s just…”, she began, but Marcurio interrupted, “How it’s always been? That does not make it right and you know it.”

“I do.”, Lyra sighed, yet she shrugged again, “But I won’t change him.”

“Sadly, no.”, Marcurio grumbled and in the following silence, he looked down so as not to fight with her. And that was when he saw her hand.

“You’re injured.”, Marcurio gasped, making her flinch, but then she waved it off, “Just a scratch.”

“Are you kidding?”, he growled, “You can contract Rockjoint from a bite like that. Let me see.”

He did not even wait for her answer, just gently took a hold of her hand and inspected the wound, just behind her gauntlets. It was not deep, but there was blood, as he healed it anyway, just to be sure.

“There.”, Marcurio then sighed, “You’re all set.”

Smiling, he looked up into her eyes and only then realised that they were standing side by side…his hand on the small of her back. She had not even flinched. No, instead she leaned into his touch.

Marcurio blinked, breaking the spell he had felt between them and as he hastily stepped back, he took the touch of his hand with him. It felt too much like loss, but he decided not to dwell on it. Instead, he tried to speak, but had to clear his throat before he could hoarsely ask her: “What do you want to do with the bodies?”

It took Lyra a moment to reply, then she shrugged, her voice, too, a bit unsteady: “Leave them. Mralki can use the meat and the furs.”

“You’re not just killing his vermin for him, you even give him the spoils?”, Marcurio snorted indignantly, but she just shrugged lazily, “I have enough to live, but they hardly come by. They need it more than I do.”

“Be that as it may…”, Marcurio mumbled, but then thought about her two chests full of dragon bones and nodded, “I see your point.”

She gave him a crooked grin for it, then she enquired: “Let’s go?”

“Let’s go.”, he agreed and together they made their way back up into the taproom.

“And?”, the innkeeper asked them as soon as Lyra’s head was visible to him, “They dead?”

Marcurio narrowed his eyes at the man and then spoke before Lyra could: “Stone dead. But I suggest you keep the door closed unless you have a delivery. Lest the wolves and bears of the area might consider going into the delivery business.”

Without another word, he left the inn, counting on Lyra to follow him. He heard her chuckle quietly, but she followed him and metres outside Rorikstead, she laughed out loud: “That insult did not even make sense!”

“If you can’t convince them, confuse them.”, Marcurio winked at her and she threw her head back in laughter that elated both their spirits.

The way to Whiterun then passed quickly as it was spent with the friendly banter and insults the two of them had traded before. Which was what had made her presence so delightful to Marcurio.

As they reached the hill that Whiterun sat upon, a wide smile was plastered on Lyra’s lips and he could not help but think that she was even more beautiful like that. He just had to smile along with her.

But Marcurio’s smile faltered as they reached the gate and Lyra was greeted: “Hail, Companion!”

He glanced at Lyra, but to his surprise found her still happy. She chuckled and then tried to explain: “Here, they know me, but use the title of Companion with honour. I… can’t give you a better explanation.”

She bashfully looked away, but Marcurio put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a grin: “You don’t need to. Your word is enough. And your smile says more than any explanation ever could.”

At this she too clasped his shoulder and together they went along the cobblestone path, until Lyra just stopped, making him stumble.

“The Bannered Mare is over there, if I’m not mistaken.”, Marcurio nodded ahead of them, but Lyra grinned and said, “True. But Breezehome is right here.”

“And that is…?”, he prompted, earning a chuckle from her, then she bit her lip before she revealed, “My house.”

“You have a house.”, Marcurio blinked a few times, then shrugged, “Alright, I guess I shouldn’t be as surprised as I am.”

“Why is that?”, she wondered, genuinely curious, so he laughed, “Because you have caught me off guard at just about every turn.”

As her smile deepened, yet grew shy at the same time, just gained a very different quality, Marcurio wished he had never said that. But he could not take it back, so he gestured behind him and suggested: “So, I’ll get a room at the inn.”

“Nonsense!”, Lyra snorted, “You can stay here. Come in.”

He did not hesitate. He wanted to stay with her, he had just not dared to take it for granted. As they entered, Marcurio was surprised to find the fire stoked and a cauldron over it, supper bubbling merrily.

“I’m home!”, Lyra called out and Marcurio suddenly felt cold. Did she have a husband? No…

There were heavy, hectic footsteps overhead and then a young woman appeared at the top of the stairs, her hair dark as her eyes, but there was a happy twinkle in them and the same happiness rang in her voice as she called out: “It’s so good to see you again, my Thane.”

What?

“My Thane?”, Marcurio belatedly asked, staring at Lyra before he burst out, “My THANE?”

“I…”, she slowly began, then grinned shyly before she gestured to the woman who had come down the stairs to them, “This is Lydia, my housecarl. Lydia, this is Marcurio. He has been accompanying me for a time now.”

“Nice to meet you.”, Lydia spoke with a smile and nodded at him, only now making him realise that she was also taller than him, although not as tall as Lyra, “Likewise.”

“Supper is ready, my Thane.”, Lydia then addressed Lyra who shook her head, “Thank you, we’ll probably eat a bite. But we will then join the Companions. It has been too long for me.”

“So… you will not be back for a while?”, Lydia asked, averting her eyes and Marcurio wondered just what was going on when Lyra smiled warmly at her, “Aye. I will not have need of you at least until tomorrow.”

Lydia smiled brightly and Lyra nodded behind her to the door: “Go. Farengar makes you happy, so don’t hesitate, my friend.”

She smiled happily, but did not leave, so Lyra grabbed her arm and laughing, she pushed the other woman out the door, all but shouting: “Shoo!”

With that, they were alone again and Lyra shook her head whimsically. Marcurio did the same, but the emerging silence was deafening. Marcurio nervously licked his lips as he looked at Lyra and she, too seemed insecure as she spoke: “I hope you will join me after supper. It really has been too long since I have seen my Shield-Brothers and… I would like you to meet them.”

“Gladly.”, he found himself saying and Lyra smiled with her question, “Would you like supper before? There’s always plenty to eat at Jorrvaskr, but Lydia’s stew is to die for.”

“Now I’m curious.”, he stated and patiently waited as Lyra readied their food, but there was only one frantic thought in Marcurio’s mind: He was going to meet her family. And he had no idea whether to be happy or to fear for his life.


	8. Chapter 8

Marcurio was a scholar, a bit of an archaeologist, had even made some field studies – stumbling through Nordic ruins behind Lyra, for example – but nothing, no rumours, no stories from Lyra could have ever prepared him for what he faced as she opened the doors to the mead hall Jorrvaskr. He had expected the smell of fire, mead and ale, roasted meat and a lot of people, his imagination had even thrown a few dogs into the mix, but he could never have imagined the level of noise that greeted them as soon as the first of the Companions had spotted Lyra.

“Sister!”, the man roared and everyone in the hall turned to them – although no one was looking at him.

“Sister!”, others repeated the warm greeting and the man who had shouted first now quickly ran over to her, far quicker than Marcurio had thought him capable of, but about as loud as he had imagined, then the giant of a man engulfed Lyra in a bone-crushing hug. That guy dwarfed Lyra.

Marcurio gulped as he watched them embrace like long lost siblings and he could not help but listen to their words: “Farkas, how are you?”

“Better now.”, was his gruff reply, but he smiled so broadly, Marcurio almost thought it would have to split his square-jawed face in two. Others greeted her as well, yet none with such… yes, love, as Farkas had. Until another man walked up next to him and one glance told Marcurio that the two were brothers.

“Lyra, dear. It’s good to see you again.”, the man spoke, just as gruffly as his brother, yet somehow more refined before he embraced Lyra. It gave Marcurio a painful pang in his heart to see her there, even though he knew he had no right to feel that way.

“And you, Vilkas.”, she spoke affectionately, then stepped back, only to be hugged by the other brother again.

“What took you so long, Sister?”, Farkas asked and Lyra laughingly shoved him away, pouting playfully, “I come back after weeks and the first thing you ask me is not “Here, want a drink?”. I am disappointed, Brother.”

“Huh.”, he grumbled, then reached behind him to a table and grabbed a bottle of mead he then all but thrust into her hands, “Here, want a drink?”

Lyra chuckled before she downed the mead and Marcurio had to laugh along.

“Who’s the twig?”, Farkas then asked and while Lyra blushed a bit, Marcurio raised his eyebrows at the man before he joked, “Asks the mountain.”

“Huh.”, Farkas grumbled again, then Lyra introduced them, “Marcurio, these are Vilkas and Farkas, my brothers in arms and spirit. Farkas, Vilkas, this is Marcurio, a friend who has accompanied me on my travels to find Word Walls.”

Farkas nodded at him with a grunt, but crossed his arms defiantly in front of his broad chest, as did his brother, who remained absolutely silent.

“Nice meeting you.”, Marcurio smiled at them and at first wanted to offer his hand for a handshake, but then thought better of it and settled for a slight bow. Either of them would have been able to crush his hand between their fingers. And from the dark looks on their faces, both of them wanted to.

“It has been so long, brothers!”, Lyra laughed, seemingly oblivious to their anger simmering right beneath the surface, “Let’s eat, tell me what happened while I was away.”

With that, she led the way over to the table and sat down, gesturing to the chair next to her for him to sit down and then all of them dug in. He had to admit, the food was extraordinary and plentiful, but he made good use of the fact that everyone was ignoring him. Not totally, no, he did receive the odd look now and then, but no one even bothered to talk to him. Nords, eh?

Marcurio did not hold it against them and understood their joy about having Lyra back far better than he wanted to admit, so he just listened to the stories they traded, heard Lyra recap the tale of how they had fought the dragon on the Bonestrewn Crest, how she had found strength in the new Shout. Her smile as she described that went right to his core and made him blush. He was just glad no one could see that in the dim light of the mead hall. 

Vilkas across from him took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring and it made Marcurio think of a dog getting hold of a scent. A ridiculous thought, but even more so was the impression that he was the intended prey. When the man’s cold bluish-grey eyes then landed on Marcurio, he knew he was the prey.

He had a hard time shaking off the feeling of dread that befell him in that instant, but he tried as he hid behind his cup and then suddenly jerked as a loud voice behind him startled him: “Lyra, Sister! Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Neither have I seen you, Torvar.”, she smiled, but Marcurio saw the tension behind it. Something was amiss, he thought, and obviously, so did Vilkas, for he quickly shot the guy down with calm, yet sharp words: “Be thankful our Shield-Sister was not here to see your embarrassment.”

“Embarrassment?”, Lyra echoed as Torvar shrank in his boots, “No need to bring that up…”

“Oh, there is!”, Farkas laughed and Lyra chimed in, “Now this I have to hear!”

Torvar slunk off, even in his inebriated state recognising defeat, but Farkas did not stop. With a bright grin and a voice loud from both drink and merriment, he began his tale: “Torvar and I were sent to kill some wolves for a farmer. Got there, gutted ‘em. But Torvar lost his pants.”

“How did that happen?”, Lyra asked and Farkas just shrugged, then a young woman, an Imperial judging from her slanted eyes, appeared behind Farkas and with one hand on his shoulder and a vicious grin on her lips, she explained: “One of the wolves bit him in his ass. The pants were so worn and old that the wolf ripped them right off. Torvar did not have a spare with him.”

Lyra laughed, but then glanced at Farkas: “And you didn’t either.”

“Did.”, the giant of a man shrugged, “Didn’t give ‘em to him, though.”

Lyra was laughing tears now as was Marcurio, but she managed to say between gasps: “That’s hardly worse than when you lost your sword to a bear.”

“Maybe.”, Farkas just grunted, but his brother thumped him on the shoulder and amicably stated, “Losing your pants is worse than beating a bear to death with a wolf carcass.”

“In terms of required skill, maybe.”, Marcurio interjected, “But both are disgusting.”

“My thoughts exactly!”, Lyra laughed, but Farkas grinned, “So what. I’m skilled with a sword and a dead wolf.”

Lyra rolled her eyes, but laughed before she reached for a sweetroll.

“Want some?”, she asked of Marcurio and he just nodded, not trusting his voice and his loins that had made him think of something else than a sweetroll. Once again Vilkas looked as if he was sniffing the air, and Farkas too, but neither said anything.

As Marcurio and Lyra dug in, music started from another corner of the hall and a quick look told him that three of the Companions had grabbed instruments, a lute, a fiddle and a drum. They began a fast tune, a bit crude for Marcurio’s standards, but the rest of the Companions cheered and some of them even jumped off their chairs to dance.

It was… nothing like the formal dances he had learned at home as an adolescent, but it was beautiful in its own right, rough and honest, like Nords, unrefined, but also unfiltered. And astonishing how all of them just knew when to stomp their feet, when to shout or spin.

“May I have this dance?”, Vilkas asked and Marcurio saw the utter surprise in Lyra’s eyes as she looked up at the standing brother, offering his hand with a smile.

“Vilkas…”, she began, her voice hardly more than a whisper, “You don’t dance.”

“I do tonight.”, was all he gave for an answer and it unsettled her even more. She even glanced at Marcurio, for what, he did not know, but he nodded at her with a grin he had to force onto his lips: “Go, have fun.”

With that she got to her feet, laughter bubbling up from her and Vilkas swiftly pulled her to the makeshift dance floor.

It was… strange to see Lyra like that. Happy, which was good and it hit Marcurio with a force just how beautiful she was when she was truly happy, but also… in the arms of another. That hurt more than he was willing to admit. So he looked away, only to be confronted with a hard stare from Farkas, his eyes as grey as his brother’s, but much, much colder.

“Can I help you?”, Marcurio asked, not sure what in Oblivion was going on here, but Farkas did not utter a single word. Instead, he crossed his beefy arms in front of his chest and merely hardened his stare.

“I guess not, then.”, Marcurio mumbled and he had to admit, that stare unnerved him. But looking at Lyra did not help, either. She, too, looked unnerved as Vilkas twirled her around and then pulled her tightly to his chest. A few words passed between them, but Marcurio had no chance to understand them over the ruckus of the music and the dancing and singing Companions.

He was just about to stand up and go rescue Lyra – what a thought – when he saw her smile at her dance partner and then hug Vilkas like… a sister or a lover? He had no idea. And that did not sit well with him.

“Would you like to dance?”, he was pulled from his dark thoughts and felt the frown make room for a surprised look at the young woman next to him, the one who had spoken of her Shield-Brother’s embarrassment.

“I’m Ria.”, she said, smiling down at him, “And it’s been ages since I had the chance to dance with someone who just might know the steps.”

“I’m Marcurio.”, he laughed and stood up to reach for her hand, “May we?”

“Let’s!”, she cheered and a moment later, they were amongst the dancers. It only took one twirl to make Ria laugh: “Finally someone who can dance!”

Marcurio laughed with her and once he stopped thinking about the correct steps, they just came to him naturally.

“They’re looking at us.”, Ria whispered and almost stumbled during another twirl, but Marcurio shrugged, “So what? Let them gawk. We’re just dancing.”

She smiled and ignored her Shield-Siblings, but Marcurio now had a hard time heeding his own advice. As the tune ended, he stepped back and without his conscious decision, his gaze searched for Lyra. She gave him a bitterly sad smile, then excused herself from Vilkas and sat back down.

“Another?”, Ria asked, but Marcurio slightly shook his head, his eyes never leaving Lyra as he absently mumbled, “Later maybe.”

“Alright.”, Ria chirped, not seeing his discomfort apparently. Vilkas, however, simply ignored it as the bulk of the man shoved himself in Marcurio’s way, right between him and Lyra.

“Excuse me.”, Marcurio hissed and tried to sidestep the obstacle in his path, but Vilkas moved with him and Marcurio’s anger got the better of him, “What is it?”

“She is dear to me.”, Vilkas spoke, his voice low, barely above a growl and his brother’s own grumbling joined his as he continued, “If you hurt her, we will hunt you down.”

“What?”, Marcurio gasped, his voice tight, but the brothers were calm as Vilkas repeated, “We will hunt you down. We will find you and hurt you.”

“I understood that!”, he spat in reply, “You’re both big, bad boys and a mere mage like me could never beat two true Nord warriors.”

“True that.”, Farkas grumbled, but Marcurio ignored the dumb reply and instead focused on the obviously more intelligent brother, “But what in Oblivion makes you think I would hurt the woman who hired me to protect her, fight for her? I’d be an idiot. And I assure you, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”, VIlkas then mumbled, his face slack with surprise written all over it, “You don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”, Marcurio asked, his agitation rising for he could not see Lyra and did not know what the two were going on about. Well, he had an idea, but that was daft…

“Don’t hurt her.”, Vilkas merely repeated and turned away, but Marcurio had had enough. Despite everything in him knowing it was a bad idea, he grabbed the man’s arm to stop him and then decided to just speak his mind, damn the consequences, so he whispered harshly: “I’m merely here to protect her from harm coming from bandits and the likes. It’s you who should protect her heart, as it is in your hands.”

Farkas grunted in surprise and merely stared at his brother as Vilkas in turn stared at Marcurio, his eyes wide. Slowly, a grin spread on the man’s face and he shook his head: “You poor sod. You really don’t know.”

“Enlighten me, then.”, Marcurio demanded, but Vilkas shook his head before he nevertheless started an explanation, “Maybe I was wrong about you. Maybe you do not just want her body, but do truly care for her. I am not sure. But I know that her heart is not in my hands, nor in my brother’s. She’s put it into your care.”

“M-my…?”, Marcurio stuttered, but that only earned him a condescending smirk from Vilkas before he added: “I don’t care if you want it or not. But if you hurt her, we will hunt you down.”

With that threat, the two left him standing there, dumbstruck. Lyra… had feelings for him? Should he really be so lucky? Still astounded, Marcurio searched for her in the hall and found her already looking at him, but she quickly averted her gaze. Slowly a smile spread on his lips and he made his way over to her.

“Everything alright?”, he asked as she greeted him with a hesitant smile and leaned into his touch. He had not even realised that he had put his hand on her back, between her shoulders, but as he did now, it was painfully obvious to him that she allowed his touch, did not shy from it. She trusted him.

“Lyra.”, Marcurio began, his voice thick and he had to lick his lips as she turned her gaze up to him, standing next to her chair, “Let’s go home.”

She had heard something in his words, he knew it from the way her shoulders tensed under his touch, but her frown was not coloured with concern, but curiosity.

“Let’s get out of here.”, he asked again and when she did not say a word, Marcurio raised a hand to her cheek, tenderly touching her skin, warm and flushed from the exertion of dancing and the fire, “Please, love.”

“I…”, she began and blinked a few times, but did not look away from him.

Just what it was, he would probably never know, but seeing her like this, safe, yet vulnerable, so open, he could not stop himself. Marcurio leaned towards her, slowly to give her ample opportunity to leave or to shove him away, but instead her hand came up to rest on his side, even drew him closer and a heartbeat later, his lips met hers. They were dry and chapped, but soft under his touch and so hesitant he was forced to think of it as fearful.

So he withdrew just the slightest bit and murmured against her lips: “Please trust me, love.”

“I do.”, Lyra whispered shakily, but her gaze was firm as he looked into her eyes, a dark undercurrent in the warm brown.

“Then let’s go.”, he asked of her and with a determined nod, she took his hand in hers and stood up.

They got a few looks as they left the mead hall, but Marcurio ignored them all and followed her out into the cold night. Rain hit them, drenching them within moments, but Marcurio ignored that as well. Instead, he gently tugged at Lyra’s hand and when she turned to him, he pulled her down to his height to kiss her.

“We’re still out, we’re…”, Lyra gasped between kisses, but Marcurio kept his hand firmly on the back of her head as he muttered, “I don’t care.”

“We could be arrested for this.”, Lyra protested half-heartedly, but he contradicted: “No guards are out in that weather. Moreover, you’re a thane, aren’t you, my love?”

This made her laugh and earned him another kiss, this one deeper than before, allowing more of Lyra to shine through her insecurity. His heart raced and it was difficult to tame his lust, so he mumbled into her ear: “Come.”

 

With that, he pulled her towards Breezehome, but even though it was just down the road, the way seemed much too far.


	9. Chapter 9

How exactly they had covered the distance, Marcurio had no idea. He only recalled having kissed Lyra every chance he had gotten on the short way over to her house and as soon as she had unlocked the door, he pulled her inside and kicked the door shut before gently pushing her against the dark wood. He made good use of her surprised gasp by capturing her lips in a kiss he quickly deepened, exploring with soft licks of his tongue.

“Marcurio…”, she mumbled, her hands on his shoulders pushing him down to stand flat on his soles, too short to reach her again.

“Trust me, love.”, he whispered a plea, “Can you do that?”

“A-aye.”, she breathed and he stroked his cold fingertips over her wet cheek before dropping his hand to her drenched cloak, “Then let’s get rid of this.”

He felt her tense under his touch, but Marcurio kept smiling and jested: “Wet clothes are the best excuse to lose them entirely. Don’t you think?”

She nodded shakily, but did not say another word, nor did she act on his suggestion. Marcurio feared he was losing her, but then he was proved wrong in the best way possible. Lyra took a deep breath before swiftly pulling him to her chest to kiss him once again. Her fingers wandered from his shoulders to his face, cupping his cheeks with shaking hands before she tugged the leather band from his hair.

“I’ve wondered for a while.”, she then murmured as she combed her fingers through the wet strands and Marcurio could not help it, he threw her a suggestive wink as he asked, only half in jest, “As I’ve wondered what’s beneath your armour.”

Biting his traitorous tongue Marcurio expected her to withdraw, but was surprised when Lyra smiled deeply and challenged: “Then come and find out.”

His hands flew forward and even though a part of his mind tried to stop him, to give her time to get used to his touch, Marcurio could not. Usually nimble hands jerkily tugged on the fastenings of her cloak until they all but ripped it off her shoulders, then they wandered to the junctions of her heavy armour.

The only consolation he received was that Lyra’s hands fared not better than his. He actually heard her tear a seam in his robes apart, but as the garment finally dropped

to the wooden floor with a satisfying splash, Marcurio could not have cared less about its state. Instead he let his hands roam over the chilled, damp skin their efforts had revealed.

He felt Lyra’s muscles shift and work under his admiring touch, he explored the valleys between ridged scars, discovered the textures of burn marks, even found a star-shaped scar only a hand’s breadth over her chestband, right at his eye-level.

“It was an arrow.”, Lyra whispered, gently enclosing his hand in hers, so much stronger and slightly bigger than his. Marcurio raised his gaze to her in the dim light of the kitchen, only lit by the coals in the fire pit before he traced the scar again: “This could have killed you.”

“It almost did.”, Lyra shrugged, “It happened shortly before I came to Riften. And it was one of the reasons I hired you.”

Marcurio frowned in surprise, but she apparently mistook it for something else, because Lyra averted her gaze and bashfully muttered: “I know they are hideous, but…”

“No.”, Marcurio stopped her, framing her face, her beautiful face, with his hands, so much softer than hers, so different, “No, love. They only show where you’ve been. Nothing more.”

She stared at him for that, but Marcurio lowered one hand to the scar again and murmured: “Moreover… if that scar brought you to me, I guess I should almost be grateful for it.”

Her eyes widened even more at that and Marcurio felt her tense under his touch as he leaned forward to press his lips to the scarred tissue. Lyra shivered and her hands gripped him tighter, almost tightly enough to bruise. Even if…

Marcurio slowly stepped back and took her hands in his to pull her with him as he went over to the stairs and asked: “Where to?”

“Follow me.”, Lyra invitingly said, her smile so open and trusting it made Marcurio’s heart beat faster as she led him up the stairs and through the small hall to her bedroom.

Inside, Marcurio pulled her to him and put his arms around her, deliberately stroking her back and looking into her eyes to see her reaction. Where he had feared to see agitation, he only saw trust… until he recognised the darker glimmer of lust in the brown depths.

Without a word, she reached behind her back, but Marcurio caught her hand in his and asked: “Allow me, please.”

She nodded and he had to take a deep, shaky breath before he forced his fingers to loosen the knot in the cloth. He had to clumsily tug on it, but finally he was able to unwrap the breastband and he let it drop to the floor, forgotten as soon as his gaze reached her chest.

There, too, were scars, but he hardly saw them, even though he was staring. Slowly his hands stroked down Lyra’s back, then wandered over her sides to her front and upwards, cupping her breasts. Her deep sigh only filled his hands with her flesh even more and at that moment, they were the perfect size. Putting one arm around her back, Marcurio leaned forward to place gentle, lingering kisses on her mounds until he let his tongue dart out to caress an already pert nipple.

The effect was immediate and breath-taking. With a growl, Lyra grabbed him and all but threw him onto the bed, crashing her lips to his and even biting him, just this side of painful. To his own surprise, it wrenched a lustful groan from Marcurio, a groan that was swallowed by Lyra.

More followed as she quickly got rid of his smallclothes and without hesitation closed her hand around his length. His moan was helpless and louder than he thought it would be, her caresses driving him to ecstasy in mere moments.

“Wait…”, he somehow managed to choke out and clumsily took a hold of Lyra’s wrist. She stared at him and withdrew, but Marcurio did not let her go and with a grin bid her: “Slow down, love, or I’ll go ahead without you.”

She smirked at him, but as he gently tugged at her wrist, she followed and lay down next to him, panting just as hard as Marcurio himself. He ignored it and leaned to her to kiss her, his hand on her cheek and then slowly wandering down over her chest, slightly pinching a nipple before he let it roam further down until it reached her thighs, then he moved it between them.

Lyra gasped into their kiss and Marcurio did the same as he felt the heat and wetness. One finger explored further, slid into her without the slightest hindrance and at that he felt Lyra bite her lip. Marcurio licked over the maltreated skin, then traced kisses from her chin to her throat, dipping the tip of his tongue into the hollow of her throat. Lyra arched into his caress and with a smirk, Marcurio promised her in a hushed whisper: “Let me show you something you’ll love.”

He felt her nod, so he placed kisses on her torso, slowly making his way down and never stopping the caresses of his hand between her thighs. When his mouth reached his hand, Marcurio lazily licked over her heated flesh.

Lyra, however, arched her back, almost throwing him off with the force of her lust, and her moan rang in his ears. He had never heard her this loud outside of a battle, but he preferred the current sounds by far. So he doubled his efforts and enjoyed the way her thighs quaked around him, how her stomach was drawn taut with her struggle to keep in her lust.

With an arrogant grin he mused that she would lose… but was thrown onto his back before he could claim that victory. Lyra followed him immediately, swung one leg over him and straddled his hips, her wetness rubbing against his length with such delicious friction Marcurio had to ball his fists in the furs under him with a white-knuckled grip so as not to just plunge in.

One look at Lyra stopped him, however. She smiled at him apologetically and he understood. She had already given him more control than any man before him, but now he had to relinquish the lead… or lose her.

That thought he could not bear, so Marcurio nodded at her and reached out for her. Lyra’s smile deepened and once again trust glimmered in her eyes, trust and… yes, love.

Marcurio let her come to him and simply accepted the kiss she gave him, but it turned into a helpless gasp of lust as she joined their bodies. He was fully occupied with reigning in his emotions, but could no longer when he felt Lyra move. Slowly, gently, but with such honesty and passion Marcurio was swept up in her and he did not fight, just accepted that he was not in control any longer. What did it matter, really?

They moved together, the chilly room filled with their heavy breathing and their moans, his far louder than hers until Lyra swallowed them with her kisses. Marcurio pulled her closer to his chest, pressed her flush against him and their movements against each other grew more erratic until his whole body stiffened with the height of his lust.

Lyra followed him close behind, as he realised when her moan of lust shook the bed, the walls with the power of her voice.

Panting heavily, Marcurio’s mind needed a few moments to find its way through the haze of lust, then he laughed. Lyra looked up at him with a bemused frown, making him laugh harder, but then she joined him and it took him a few heartbeats to manage an explanation: “You rattled the bed with your Shout. Again.”

Lyra hid her face against his neck in embarrassment, but he felt her shaking with laughter. Only then, as he felt her laughter, did he understand that his hands were on her back, holding her against him.

“Are you… alright?”, Marcurio slowly asked and as she raised her head to look at him, blinking, he moved his hands, stroked over her back. Still she did not seem to understand his question, so Marcurio voiced it: “I did not think and… touched your back. Is that alright?”

“I…”, Lyra stammered, then smiled at him and stated happily, “Aye, it is alright. More than that.”

Saying that, she kissed him and that, more than anything, told him that she truly was alright, truly trusted him. He loved her.

Only when Lyra then stared at him did Marcurio understand and so he asked just to be sure: “Did I say that out loud?”

“You did.”, Lyra breathed and he grimaced. He should not have said that, at least not so soon…

“Did you mean it?”, she whispered, once again so insecure, so vulnerable it broke his heart.

“Of course I did.”, Marcurio promised her, “How could I not, love? You are wonderful, everything about you is, even your flaws. Of course I mean it. I love you.”

Lyra said nothing, but he heard the echo of his words in her sigh just before she kissed him.

As she withdrew, Marcurio cupped her cheek to hold her with him a moment longer, then he let her go.

But she did not go far. Lyra lay down next to him, pulled the warm blankets over them both and then put her arms around Marcurio, kissing his shoulder before snuggling to his side. She was asleep in a heartbeat.

 

Marcurio chuckled quietly, then traced the curve of her face with his finger before he, too, closed his eyes. He had the love of his life in his arms. What more could he want?


	10. Chapter 10

Marcurio’s mind was slow when he awoke, trying to linger in his dream. Just a bit longer…

He blinked a few times before he managed to truly open his eyes and when he did, a wide smile spread on his face. She was there, she was truly there. Rolling over onto his side, Marcurio watched Lyra in her sleep, revelled in the knowledge that they were safe in her house. Her house… her bed.

He just could not wipe that stupid grin off his face and it did not help in the slightest that his mind showed him his memories of last night.

With a happy sigh, Marcurio reached for her, wanted - needed - to touch her again. Lyra was lying on her stomach and had kicked away the warm blankets so that almost her entire back was visible. Alright, so he had hogged the blankets a bit, but she was a Nord, she did not feel cold like he did. His fingertips touched the warm skin of Lyra’s back and Marcurio caressed the entire length of her back, from her shoulders to her hips, the curve of her behind. Lyra slightly stirred in her sleep, but she did not wake, not entirely.

Maybe it was foolish… but he had to try. Marcurio sidled up to her, his arm now around her waist as he began to pepper her back with kisses, starting between her shoulder blades and then moving up to her right arm, over her scars and then back to her neck. With a deep sigh, Lyra woke, he felt it in the tension that was suddenly in her shoulders, alert and ready to strike. His warrior.

“Good morning, love.”, he whispered against her skin, “It’s just me.”

“Morning.”, she mumbled, her voice still thick from sleep. When Marcurio felt her muscles shift under his touch as Lyra wanted to turn around to him, he put his hand on her shoulder and gently stopped her.

“Wait.”, he asked, “I’d like to… try something.”

He felt Lyra’s insecurity, did not need to see her face for that.

“Trust me, love.”, he spoke, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, “I think you’ll like it. If not, I’ll stop.”

Still there was tension in her muscles, like in a sabre cat’s before it sprang, but then Lyra eased her body back down and only turned her head to look at him, a warm smile on her lips as she said nothing, merely nodded. The look in her brown eyes told him more than words would have been able to anyway.

Returning her smile, Marcurio leaned down to kiss her, then he traced a path of kisses back to her shoulders, down her back. She shivered under his touch and for a split-second, Marcurio was afraid he had gone to far, but as he looked up to make sure Lyra was still alright, he found her calm.

Well… not exactly calm, but not afraid either. Instead, she was excited, her cheeks already flushed a cute shade of pink and Marcurio grinned smugly. He resumed placing open-mouthed kisses on her skin, even allowed his tongue to dart out from time to time until he heard Lyra’s breathing quicken. Now or never…

Marcurio shifted, now his shoulders tense both from worry and the bit of exertion needed to move his body over hers, behind Lyra. She tensed, but Marcurio kissed away the goosebumps on her spine and, as he moved up her body, murmured against her skin: “Just me, love.”

She sighed and her muscles were taut, ready to fight, but under his touch she slowly calmed, all but melted under him. Marcurio could not help the smug grin, but he refrained from saying anything. Instead he made his way up Lyra’s back, kissing every bit of skin he could reach until he had returned to her shoulders, then moved to her lips. She was already panting and the way she returned his kiss, out of breath and eager, his last bit of worry dissipated. His hand on her hip slowly snaked under Lyra’s body and when it found its mark between her thighs, she gasped, but it quickly turned into a low moan.

Marcurio could not wait any longer. He barely had enough consideration left in his mind to not just plunge in, but instead slowly bring his aching length to Lyra’s middle, to give her time to stop him if she wanted to. She did not and that cost him his last shred of control. He moved more quickly, more forcefully than he had intended, but he could not bring himself to be sorry when he felt the heat of Lyra’s body, heard her moan in surprise and lust. Maybe even surprising lust.

Marcurio had to catch his breath. He leaned his forehead against Lyra’s shoulders, fully occupied with not losing it then and there, but Lyra had no such concerns. She moved under him, pressed against him in the most delicious way and with a start, Marcurio wondered what in Oblivion he had been waiting for before he began to move. His first thrust was quick, elicited another gasp from her, but then her hand, feeling around for something, his hand, found his fingers and as they interlaced, their movements fell into a slow rhythm that had them both struggling for breath nonetheless. Marcurio even saw stars and he could no longer distinguish his own groans of pleasure from Lyra’s.

He would not last long, he knew that, so his hand resumed its movement under her and he felt Lyra tense under him, around him, with the height of her lust. Its intensity caught him off guard and Marcurio could do nothing but hold on as his body first tensed, then fell limp with his own bliss.

He had no idea how much time had passed, but he began to feel Lyra’s heartbeat in addition to his own, then he slowly managed to place a kiss on her shoulder.

“Thank you.”, he heard her whisper and looked at her, startled. Lyra’s cheeks were still dusted with a blush that now deepened as shame was added to exertion before she explained: “We’ve been together for one night and… I have experienced much, much more than in my entire life so far. So much better things. Thank you.“

Marcurio smiled at her, but it was a bit crooked. There was nothing to be thankful for, at least not on her part. But he did not voice that thought, instead he said: “Thank you for your trust, love.”

“I know that I can trust you.”, Lyra replied and it shook him to the core. These words meant more than “I love you” from her. Much more.

Marcurio knew nothing to say, so he tried to put his feelings, how overwhelmed and joyful he was, into his kiss. Lyra returned it with a sigh and that sigh deepened when they slowly separated their bodies. Without missing a beat, Marcurio pulled her back into his arms, not yet having had enough kisses. He wondered if that moment would ever come.

For now, nothing existed outside their little cocoon of blankets and bliss. At least until the outside world had to come knocking, doing so as someone opened the door downstairs. Marcurio tensed, fearing an intruder, but Lyra remained calm and a second later, he knew why as Lydia’s voice softly called out: “My Thane?”

Marcurio burst into laughter. Lyra flinched at his sudden and obviously unexpected behaviour, so he chortled: “We left some of our clothes downstairs. Lydia must’ve tripped over them!”

Lyra paled for a moment, but as he continued to laugh, she joined him in his merriment, until Marcurio stated with fake seriousness: “I left my clothes downstairs. I’ll be forced to face Lydia naked.”

“Absolutely not.”, Lyra hissed and he could not stop himself from grinning, “Is that jealousy I hear, dearest?”

“Well spotted, Master mage.”, she replied with a grin of her own, although hers was more of a snarl. Marcurio laughed his head off in bed. Lyra, however, quickly threw on a dressing gown to open the door and call out to Lydia: “We’ll be down momentarily.”

“We, my Thane?”, he heard Lydia ask and Lyra bit her lip, but Marcurio kept laughing.

“Yes, Lydia.”, Lyra spoke after she had taken a deep breath, “Marcurio and I will be joining you for breakfast soon.”

As an afterthought, she added with a grin: “You could have brought Farengar.”

Marcurio smiled proudly, but Lydia had a comeback: “And risk the poor guy being interrogated by you when you have the advantage of your home? I think not!”

Marcurio burst out in laughter again and was joined by both women, Lydia was still chortling when she informed them: “I’ll prepare breakfast.”

Lyra closed the door before sitting down on the bed, using the opportunity to kiss him and Marcurio enjoyed her caress, then he asked with a crooked grin: “Did you plan on telling her right away?”

“I did not plan anything.”, Lyra replied, but then smiled at him and combed her fingers through his hair, a wonderful feeling, “But I won’t hide what we have. Everyone else be damned.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same side, love.”, Marcurio joked and she got up to dress properly, which brought Marcurio to his next question: “Seriously, though. My robes are downstairs. I have nothing to wear.”

“I should have something here that could fit you.”, Lyra said, then anxiously glanced at him, “If you’re alright with wearing my clothes for a while.“

Marcurio grinned, he could not help it, could not stop the joke as he asked with mock indignation: “I hope you’re not expecting me to wear a dress?!”

“No!”, Lyra said, shocked, until she caught his jest and added with a snort, “I don’t even own a dress…”

At that, Marcurio turned his head to look at her intently.

“What is it?”, Lyra asked as she fastened her breastband and Marcurio smiled, then told her: “I’m just trying to picture you in a dress. I can’t.”

“I should hope so.”, Lyra grunted and he laughed again, then he got up and stood there in her bedroom, stark naked. And not one bit ashamed of it.

Lyra handed him simple, roughspun pants and a shirt and he slipped them on unceremoniously, then shrugged: “Better than a dress.”

“Oh you…!”, Lyra began and when he dashed out of her reach, cackling merrily, she surprised him with a quick step to the side, much longer than he had anticipated, and her hand darted out so quickly he could only watch breathlessly while she caught him and bent down to kiss him. Not that he was complaining…

“Let’s go.”, Lyra mumbled and when he pouted playfully, she shook her head, “Oh no. If we keep this up, we’ll never make it to breakfast. I can’t have us starving.”

“That would indeed be inconvenient.”, Marcurio quipped and together they left the bedroom. As they moved down the stairs, he could smell porridge being cooked and strong tea, which would make a hefty breakfast together with the meat and grilled leeks he could see on the table.

“So… had a good night?”, Lydia asked, a smug smirk barely hidden behind her full lips and upon Lyra’s blush creeping onto her cheeks, her housecarl failed to contain her merriment any longer, she burst out laughing.

“Tell you what.”, Marcurio chimed in and winked at her, “You tell me details, I’ll tell you details.”

“Forget it.”, Lydia snorted with amusement, then her gaze wandered to Lyra and softened considerably as she spoke, “I’m glad you found him. He’s alright.”

“You barely know me.”, Marcurio was startled, “Don’t get me wrong, your approval is better than your sword through my gut, but…?”

“She’s got the same ability you have.”, Lyra explained, her voice barely above a whisper, “Lydia sees things others simply do not see. Just like you.”

Marcurio blinked, stared first at Lyra, then at Lydia who merely smiled a sad smile, not unlike the one Lyra had shown him so often, but as his eyes returned to Lyra, she added: “But I could not tell her about some things. You are the only one who knows.”

“As Farengar is the only one who knows some of my secrets. I could not tell you, my Thane, even though…”

“I know.”, Lyra gently interrupted Lydia’s pained words. Marcurio was lost in the middle, trying desperately to understand what had just transpired, but failing miserably. It was as if the air had rushed out of the house, but Lyra’s warm smile brought it back in as she sternly told her housecarl: “I still want Farengar over for dinner sometime. As long as you’re happy, he’ll be alright. But if he hurts you, may the Gods have mercy on his soul. For I won’t.”

Marcurio had to smile, for that threat told him so much. It showed Lyra’s concern for her friend, but it also showed that she was a Companion at her core. And that her Shield Brothers loved her as only brothers could. Should he ever be stupid enough to hurt her, he was a dead man.

Lydia laughed, but there was sincerity in her voice as she said: “Thank you. He’s aware of that.”

“Good.”, was all Lyra said, then she sat down and over the delicious food, conversation flowed. Uncharacteristically, Marcurio found himself staying quiet most of the time and simply watching the two women, realising that for the first time in years, he was content. Happy.

He knew that for the rest of his life, he would remember that one morning as the essence of the best thing that had ever happened to him. And over the course of the next few months hardly a day went by that he did not think about it. Whether they were at Breezehome sitting at that very table or out in the wilderness, he was thinking about that morning.

He did so as they hunted for an Elder Scroll, did so at the Throat of the World as they tried to negotiate a peace between the Empire and the Stormcloaks. He had never expected his unimportant ass anywhere near decisions of that magnitude, but there he was, watching the leaders of armies bicker like children.

After each session, he tried to calm Lyra down, during each he tried simply with his gaze to tell her “No, please don’t Shout them apart.”

He knew she wanted to.

“I’ll kill them.”, Lyra growled under her breath, balling her hands to fists so hard that Marcurio was afraid she would split open her own skin.

“Hush, love.”, he pleaded and covered her fists with his hands, or rather tried to, for his hands were smaller than hers, “They’re not worth that.”

“Do they know that?”, she hissed, the force in her voice blowing dust down from the old, old walls of High Hrothgar, “I think not. Ulfric clearly thinks himself the centre of the entirety of Tamriel!”

“So let him.”, Marcurio quietly told her and as she stared at him, bewildered, he used the fact that he now had her full attention, “No one will convince him otherwise. Neither him nor Tullius. They’re both pompous asses. But right now, we need them. If Jarl Balgruuf won’t allow you the use of Dragonsreach without those two making peace first, we need them right now. Afterwards, let them go at each other’s throat and watch with a keg of mead.”

She scoffed, but chuckled, Marcurio however, became serious and touched her cheek in concern before he spoke: “I still think it is madness. Capturing a dragon.”

She sighed deeply and gave him one of her sad smiles, but Marcurio shook his head: “No, love, don’t give me that look. It is foolish.”

“It’s our only hope.”, Lyra objected, “I cannot reach Alduin without Odahviing and…”

“I know.”, he gently stopped her, a finger on her lips he wanted to kiss desperately, “But that doesn’t mean I have to like the fact that you have to be the one to walk into danger.”

A moment later, he added: “You and I along with you.”

She smiled and something… was off. Marcurio knew that, but he could not put a finger on what it was exactly. His mouth was already open to ask, when a quiet, yet powerful voice interrupted his thoughts: “They are ready.”

“Thank you, Master Arngeir.”, Lyra said with a smile, but Marcurio was left to stare at the spot where the Greybeard had just been. He would never get over their quiet yet debilitating power.

“Let’s get back to it.”, Lyra muttered angrily, but as she went to the door to rejoin the negotiations again, Marcurio stopped her with his hand on hers, “Remember, love. They need you as much as you need them right now. Let them feel it. Just… don’t Shout them to pieces while you’re at it.”

“I can’t promise anything.”, she grinned, then they went right back into the fray.

Maybe he had no business being there, but he would be damned if he let Lyra suffer through it alone. It was painful to watch. Grown men, leaders, politicians… reduced to petulant children.

Lyra stood there, just stood there beside the table, her strong arms crossed in front of her chest and while she remained calm, he knew the look of rage in her eyes. They shone with fire barely contained.

Despite it all, Marcurio had to smile. Somehow, he had won the love of this woman, this warrior. Others revered her as the Dragonborn, the Hero of Legend. He was simply grateful to know Lyra, the woman.

As it had for the last couple of days, his hand wandered to his chest, to what he had hidden under his robes. Years ago he had found it, claimed it as his part of the loot from exploring an old tomb, although he had never quite known why. Now he knew that he had taken the Amulet of Mara for Lyra, even though he had not even known her back then. But he knew.

Marcurio would have loved to simply let the negotiations be and pack everything to go to Riften with Lyra… but he knew they could not. Maybe after the negotiations… 

“This is outrageous!”, Ulfric cried out and Marcurio, his thoughts interrupted, first winced, then rolled his eyes.

“Here we go again…”, he muttered angrily, his voice drowned out by the bickering in the room.

“Enough.”

One word, quietly spoken, hardly louder than even one of the bickering voices, but it silenced them all instantaneously.

All eyes turned to Lyra and when she spoke, just as quietly, her face was like stone, but her voice was a well honed sword, wielded by a seasoned warrior: “Enough. We are wasting time while dragons ravage our home, kill our people. Enough. You will not gain territory in this negotiation, you will not fight another battle for it either. You will cease all hostility immediately, you will tell your soldiers to retreat and wait. You will wait. You will only defend the cities and villages you are currently in and only from bandits or dragons. You will not do anything else. And you will continue to do as I just told you until I tell you that the threat brought by the dragons is resolved.”

Silence followed, thick as the snow outside, cold as the ice around the monastery.

“You cannot…!”, someone said, probably Ulfric or Tullius, but Marcurio did not care, he just watched Lyra as she interrupted: “Silence. You will all do as I told you. Have I made myself clear?”

No one answered her, but Marcurio saw a hesitant, yet proud smirk on Arngeir’s thin, pale lips. Lyra stared down everyone around the table before she growled, her voice shaking the walls: “Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, Dragonborn.”, Ulfric spoke and even bowed his head, making Marcurio’s eyes almost pop out of his head with it, “I will tell my men to retreat and await your word.”

She just nodded, then turned her gaze on General Tullius who visibly shrank under her scrutiny before, he too, inclined his head: “It’s clear we are not getting anywhere. Maybe you are right. We will try it your way.”

Again she simply nodded, then turned around and walked out. Just like that.

Marcurio smiled, proud, then he scrambled to run after her. When he finally reached Lyra, she had just turned a corner and he almost ran into her. She was leaning against the wall, her hands and forehead flat against it and she was shaking.

“Love…”, Marcurio whispered and put his hand on her shoulder. She said nothing, which only had him more worried, then after a few deep breaths, she murmured: “I hate this.”

“I know.”, Marcurio said, rubbing her back and feeling warm as she allowed his touch, even calmed under it so that she could open her eyes and turn to him.

“Why?”, she sighed, “Why can they not find a better way than bashing each other’s heads in? Even worse, they let their soldiers do it for them!”

“They are Generals, both of them.”, Marcurio offered with a shrug, “And they don’t have the wisdom and care for others you do. They only care about their own glory. They might say it’s for Skyrim or the Empire, but their motives are ultimately selfish. You know that.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”, Lyra grunted and he smiled, “Nope. But you’ll have to live with it.”

At this she smiled, then touched her forehead to his and embraced him. Content, Marcurio returned her embrace and felt the metal of the amulet being pressed against his chest. Maybe he should…

“Dragonborn.”, Ulfric’s voice disturbed their content silence and Marcurio wanted to strangle him for it, self-proclaimed king or not.

“Yes?”, Lyra asked, stepping back from Marcurio and Ulfric quickly glanced from her to Marcurio, then back and ignored him as he spoke, “We will keep the truce in the interest of Skyrim. You need not worry about brothers slaying each other while you save our home from the World-Eater.”

Marcurio felt his brows knit together and saw the same doubtful expression on Lyra’s face. What was he going on about…?

“When this is settled, I hope to see you amongst our ranks to reclaim Skyrim for her true sons and daughters.”, Ulfric said.

Marcurio could not believe it. Did he really think Lyra would fall for that?

“Get out of my sight.”, Lyra growled, taking the Jarl by surprise, “I will not join you or the Empire in this futile and utterly stupid war you are both fighting for your own purposes instead of for the people of Skyrim. All the people of Skyrim.”

“Dragonborn…”, he tried again, but Lyra cut him off, “I have a name. That is not it. And I will not be your pawn.”

As she stalked past the dumb-founded Jarl, Lyra added: “Now excuse me while I have to save Skyrim so that you can bicker about it later.”

With that she left him standing there and Marcurio grinned, then gave Ulfric a shrug and followed Lyra to the room the two of them had been given.

“That, love, was amazing.”, he spoke with a bright grin as he reached her, already packing their bags, forcefully shoving things into them. She remained silent, but when Marcurio touched her back, she dropped the bag, whirled around and spoke with bubbling laughter: “I know! And it was liberating! Whoo!”

Now Marcurio laughed and they packed their bags together, were ready to leave a few minutes later.

“Want to say goodbye to Arngeir?”, he asked and she nodded, but as she opened the door, the old man was already standing there. She flinched, but he only gave her a soft smile and spoke, his voice only a gentle whisper, like a breeze on a lake: “Go, child. May the Gods be with you.”

“Thank you, Master.”, Lyra spoke, bowing before him, “I know you are not happy with what I am doing, but…”

This was news to Marcurio.

“Hush.”, Arngeir said with a smile, “Maybe you are wrong or maybe I am. But Paarthurnax has guided you and as you have arrived at this conclusion, I bow to his wisdom of leading you there. Good luck.”

“Thank you.”, Lyra sighed, a deep relief audible in her voice as well as the single tear making its way down her cheek, “Thank you.”

“Go.”, Arngeir said again, then turned around and left them.

Lyra stayed silent as they left the monastery and only when they had arrived in the coldness of the everlasting snowstorm outside did Marcurio dare to ask: “What just happened?”

“Arngeir thinks that if the world is supposed to end, we should let it.”, Lyra replied and Marcurio almost stumbled, both over his feet and his words, “What?!”

“He did, at least.”, she added with a small smile, “But now admitted that maybe it’s not supposed to end just yet, that maybe we should fight. We cannot know the will of the Gods, but we can do what we think is right. We must.”

“I’m glad you’re convinced the world isn’t ready to go yet.”, Marcurio spoke from the bottom of his heart and he took her hand, “For one, I’m not ready to let you go.”

 

“Neither am I.”, Lyra replied, the words balm for his soul and as they resumed their path, Marcurio could not help but touch the amulet around his neck. Soon.


	11. Chapter 11

Just what it was, Marcurio did not know, but he woke with a start.

“Lyra?”, he asked, his voice thick from sleep he tried to rub out of his eyes.

“Shush, go back to sleep.”, she asked of him, but although her words had been quiet, Marcurio had the distinct feeling that something was wrong. He felt it like a stab to the gut.

“What is it, love?”, he asked as he slowly sat up in bed. In the darkness, he saw her sitting there next to him, her head in her hands as she stared into nothingness.

“Lyra?”, he asked again and she sighed, then glanced at him, but just sighed again.

“Talk to me.”, Marcurio pleaded as he put an arm around her and with another sigh, Lyra leaned into him and still staring off into the darkness, she mumbled a confession: “I’m afraid.”

“Of the dragon?”, Marcurio asked as he let his fingers stroke over the soft fuzz of hair on her scalp and he felt her nod at first, then shake her head before she answered, “I don’t know. Maybe not of Odahviing directly.”

“More of what he could bring?”, Marcurio guessed and felt her wince, so he chuckled quietly, “You’ve been mulling it over ever since you caught him in Dragonsreach. Although you haven’t told me what.”

Lyra sighed deeply, then she revealed: “He can take me to Alduin’s lair. But he wants his freedom in exchange.”

“Understandable.”, Marcurio shrugged, “I doubt Jarl Balgruuf is very fond of that outlook, but I can appreciate the dragon’s position.”

After a second of silence, he added: “Farengar must be ecstatic.”

At this Lyra finally laughed: “Yes. He all but forgot about his dinner with Lydia. She’s gonna tear him a new one for that.”

“Poor sod.”, Marcurio mumbled while he kept stroking over Lyra’s skin. There was something she was hiding, but he would just bide his time until she was ready to reveal it.

“He said…”, Lyra began and Marcurio tensed, sensing that he would now learn what had been troubling her for days now, keeping her from finding sleep at night, “Odahviing said that Alduin’s lair is in Sovngarde.”

He blinked a few times, unsure what to say, what to think even. Marcurio then settled for: “And he said he could take you there? To Sovngarde?”

“He probably could the direct way.”, Lyra snorted, but as Marcurio tensed at her words, she sat up and looked at him in the darkness of the bedroom, “No. He said he knew about a portal that would take me there. I… just don’t know if I trust him with this.”

Marcurio bit his lip. Sovngarde… That was far more dangerous than he had initially thought hunting the World-Eater would be. On the other hand… what had he expected?

“Well then.”, Marcurio smiled and cupped her face in his hands, “I’ve known that I would follow you everywhere, go to Sovngarde and back for you. Now I’ll just have the opportunity to prove it.”

Lyra smiled at him and leaned over to kiss him deeply. With a low moan, Marcurio simply surrendered to her touch, let her gently push him back into the sheets and crawl over him, take from him whatever she desired as it just stoked his own lust.

When they had both found their bliss, Marcurio quickly drifted off to sleep.

The last thing he felt was Lyra’s lips on his cheek, kissing him with heart-rendering tenderness before she mumbled against his skin: “I love you.”

He wanted to answer, but sleep took him before he had the chance.

When he woke in the morning, their nightly conversation seemed like a dream to him. Still he wanted to make sure Lyra was alright, but when he turned around to her, the bed beside him was empty. And cold.

“Lyra?”, he asked, an ice-cold feeling sinking its teeth into his guts, but he ignored it.

“She’s downstairs getting ready to talk to Odahviing.”, he told himself, but that cold feeling just would not go. Throwing back the blankets with force, he quickly donned his robes and, fit to fight if need be, descended the stairs, hoping to find Lyra, knowing he would not.

“Damn it, woman.”, Marcurio hissed as fear gripped his heart, “What have you done?”

Forgoing breakfast or even looking for Lydia, Marcurio left Breezehome and made his way up the road, up the stairs to Dragonsreach. Without his conscious decision, his pace quickened. Maybe she would just stand there, facing the dragon and arguing with him…but something in Marcurio told him with absolute clarity that this was not the case.

Trying to shake off the feeling, he all but ran to the keep, ignoring the guards as he dashed past the tables laden with food, up the stairs and he broke through the doors of the porch.

“Lyra!”, he shouted as he saw her at the balcony, on the back of the red dragon… ready to take flight.

“Lyra!”, he yelled again, sprinted forward, but he was knocked back flat on his ass as the dragon pushed off the stone and rose into the air with powerful beats of his wings… taking Lyra with him.

“No…”, Marcurio muttered as he tried to get up, stumbling over his own feet. But all he could do was watch the dot that was a dragon now high up in the sky grow ever smaller and he knew that Lyra was part of that dot. And that he would never forget the haunted look in her wide eyes as she had seen him burst through the doors.

“Here, friend.”, someone said and as Marcurio slowly turned his head, he saw that it was Jarl Balgruuf himself who offered him his hand to help him to his feet.

“What…?”, Marcurio mumbled as the Jarl had pulled him upright again and clasped his shoulder in a gesture far too… comforting. Marcurio brusquely shook his hand off and stared him down, only to see the Jarl sigh with sadness.

“She asked me to give you this once you arrived.”, Balgruuf said, “She did not dare leave it at the house because she thought you would figure it out right away then. Seems like she underestimated you.”

With those words, he handed Marcurio a leather pouch and a roll of parchment and without thought, he ripped away the ribbon holding it closed and began to read. It was not a long letter:

“I am sorry. I could not let you go to Sovngarde, my love. All that was mine shall now be yours, as I will always be.”

Marcurio was numb as he read her words. Her last words.

She was not coming back, he realised. Blinking, only belatedly understanding that he was fighting tears, Marcurio looked up at the Jarl still standing next to him.

“I am sorry, friend.”, Balgruuf spoke and the sincerity in his words, the sadness this man felt broke something in him. Not caring in the slightest, Marcurio wept, clutching the letter to his chest… where the Amulet of Mara had rested against his skin for the last few weeks. He did not have it on him now and he would not have need of it any longer. She was gone.

Slowly, his tears ebbed away and he then remembered the pouch he had been given. He opened it only to find an Amulet of Mara inside… the one Lyra’s mother had used to propose to her father and he understood. They had both waited too long. And now they would never get the chance. They had gambled it away with waiting for something he could not even remember now. It did not matter anymore…

“Where is she?!”, a loud, booming voice made him flinch and as he turned around he saw Vilkas run through the doors, directly to him. The Companion grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and shook him violently as he repeated: “Where is she?”

“She’s gone.”, Marcurio whispered, but Vilkas only let him go when Balgruuf presented a letter to him as well.

“Lyra asked me to give this to Marcurio so that he might bring it to you, but it seems she underestimated both of you. I am sorry, Vilkas.”

“What…?”, the warrior mumbled, pale, but Marcurio clasped his shoulder and told him, “She’s gone to battle Alduin in Sovngarde. And she never thought she’d come back from that. It took me too long to realise that or I would have gone with her. Now it’s too late.”

With that he simply left, walking down the stairs back into Whiterun on numb feet, hardly feeling or seeing anything. There was nothing left to feel. The only thing Marcurio felt were the edges of her Amulet of Mara digging into his fingers as he clutched it to his chest.

Hardly knowing where he was going, but instead trusting his numb feet to guide him by themselves, he made his way back to Breezehome, but when he wanted to open the door, he recoiled. She would never walk through that door again. He would never hear her laughter again, feel her kiss, her arms around him. The house was his now, but he did not want it. He just wanted her back… or at least be with her.

But he knew he could not change it, so he swallowed heavily and opened the door reluctantly.

As he did, he instantly wished he had not. Lydia sat there at the table in full armour and armed, but she was weeping like a little girl, the letter in her hand crumpled beyond recognition, yet he knew what it was. She raised her head as she heard him enter and Marcurio saw her red-rimmed eyes, filled to the brim with tears that kept falling.

Without a word, he closed the door and simply went to her, enclosing the warrior in his arms. She was taller than him, stronger, much more resilient in every aspect there was. But when Marcurio’s arms encircled her and her head rested against his chest, she fell apart. He had to fight his own tears again as he held Lydia, stroked through her long, dark hair, wishing it was Lyra in his arms.

Time passed, he had no idea how much, while they both struggled against their sadness, but when Lydia’s tears slowly dried, she leaned back to look at him, her face red and swollen from crying as she asked with a voice laden with despair: “She’s gone. And she’s not coming back.”

“I’m afraid so.”, Marcurio whispered past the lump in his throat and at this, her tears fell again. She furiously wiped them away, then squared her shoulders and stood up, stood at attention.

“It is Lyra’s will that all she owned shall go to you. As her housecarl, I am to guard everything she owns. Now I shall guard everything you own and your life with my life. I am your sword and your shield.”

“Lydia…”, Marcurio spoke, surprised beyond words, but then he understood that Lyra had wanted this, she had meant exactly that in her letter. So he took a deep breath to steel himself, failing at it, but then spoke anyway: “Thank you. I am grateful for your service, Lydia.”

“Yes, Master.”, she answered, but Marcurio touched her shoulders and shook his head, “No, none of that. You may have sworn to protect me, but I am not your master. I am no one’s master. But I want to be your friend.”

“Friends then.”, Lydia decided with a curt nod, but Marcurio saw her strength slowly failing to hold back her tears, so he said, “Go. Go to Farengar and tell him what happened if he doesn’t already know. And then stay with him. Let him take care of you.”

“But…”, she began objection, yet Marcurio stopped her with a small gesture, “Go, Lydia. You need him right now.”

“But what about you?”, she asked, surprising him with the extent of her sworn protection.

Marcurio gave her a sad smile before he told her: “There still is someone for you. Enjoy the time you have.”

She stared at him, her mouth open. It made him chuckle before he reached into the pocket of his robes to take out the Amulet of Mara he had found years earlier… and thought about using far too late.

“And Lydia?”, he asked, then pressed the cold metal into her palm, “Take this. So you have it when you need it.”

“But…”, she asked again, her tears falling as she understood, but he wiped them away and said, “It’s too late for Lyra and me. You two still have time. Make good use of it and now go.”

Still she stared at him, but then dashed out of the house, the amulet in her fist.

 

Marcurio smiled sadly, then closed the door she had left open and slowly went back up the stairs, his feet too heavy for him to lift, yet he somehow stumbled up the stairs and into the bedroom, where he collapsed onto the bed. He had no tears left to cry anymore, but he felt his heart rendering as he pressed Lyra’s Amulet of Mara to his chest. He had been too late. Far, far too late.


	12. Chapter 12

The sun rose and set, people made their usual ways through Whiterun… all of them but Marcurio. True, he tried his best to find some kind of life, but without Lyra, he had lost his footing.

Curiously enough, it was Lydia that brought him a kind of routine as she had taken up training with the Companions and one morning had simply dragged him along. Even Vilkas - after some grumbling - had to admit that having a mage training with them benefitted them all, as their recruits were now better equipped for dealing with magic wielding opponents.

Yet it was only a short respite for Marcurio. Going back to the empty Breezehome everyday was painful… but the pain’s sharp, breathtaking edge slowly faded to a dull hurt. Someday he might even be able to smile properly again. Only three days was clearly not enough time for this, however.

But Marcurio was fine with that, he would live. He would not enjoy it for months, maybe years to come, but he would live. Somehow.

Another day of training with the Companions had just ended and had him going back to Breezehome alone, as Lydia wanted to spend more time with Farengar. Marcurio surely would not be the one to stop her, although he had recruited Farkas into hunting Farengar down should the man ever be stupid enough to hurt Lydia. Sure, she would kill him first, but Marcurio would be damned if he did not watch from the sidelines with a keg of mead.

Chuckling softly at that thought, he entered Breezehome, distracting himself long enough to power through the pain of not seeing Lyra there. With a sigh, he made his way upstairs to the washbasin and removed the sweat and grit of training. He had to admit, the training sessions had him tired enough to let him sleep despite lying in the bed alone.

He consciously decided against healing his sustained bruises and little cuts, relishing the slight pain of his battered body as it dulled the pain in his heart. Healthy, no. But it was what he needed right now.

Tilma up in Jorrvaskr had cooked a filling meal, the fire was stoked… so all that was left for Marcurio on this lonely night was to dress for sleep and await the morning.

Sighing deeply, he discarded his robe and chose a pair of pants to fight off the chill of night in bed, when he heard the door downstairs.

At first he was confused, then anger gripped him. If Farengar had done anything to upset Lydia…!

He listened for any indication that she was crying or enraged, but heard nothing except heavy, tired footfalls. This bad then?

With a resolute breath he turned around and quickly made his way down the stairs, his mouth open to ask Lydia what was wrong… when he almost stumbled over his own feet and his words.

Seconds stretched to small eternities, his heart beating in his chest so hard it threatened to break his ribcage.

“L-lyra?”, he then stammered and saw her smile at him. She was tired, she was covered in dirt and blood, caked in it, but she was smiling, she was alive.

Everything fell away and the next thing Marcurio knew, his arms were around her waist, not caring that he got dirty, that the metal of her armour dug into his naked flesh, just as her arms were encircling him, crushing him to her breastplate with a force that pushed his breath out of his lungs, but ultimately healed his broken heart.

“Lyra…”, he murmured, did not care that it sounded like a sob, “Lyra, love…I…”

“I know.”, she whispered, her voice too dry from exhaustion, yet her tears still audible in it, “I know, my love. So did I. But I’m here.”

“Good.”, was all MArcurio managed to say, then he pulled her face down to his height and kissed her for all his worth. Out of breath he then demanded: “Never do that to me again. Never.”

“Save the world?”, Lyra lamely joked, a grin on her dirt-streaked face, “Battle the World-Eater? I swear I won’t. He’s dead.”

“And good riddance.”, Marcurio snarled, but then his voice softened and he all but pleaded, “Love, never leave me again like that. Don’t just go… I thought I lost you, I… I mourned you and…”

“I know.”, Lyra tried to smile, but failed as tears washed clean valleys through the dirt and blood on her cheeks, “I know. But I couldn’t bear the thought of sending you to Sovngarde. Forgive me, but I couldn’t.”

“I’m just glad you’re here.”, he then sighed, but added with a smirk, “However, you’ll have to answer to Lydia, Vilkas and Farkas.”

“I know.”, she repeated, but cringed at the prospect.

“Not tonight, though.”, Marcurio then said and kissed her, “Tonight, you’re mine.”

Her smile lit up the entire room, warmed his heart and stirred his loins.

“But first…”, he then grinned at her and took her hands in his, “We’ll bathe.”

“Oh yes, please.”, Lyra sighed and together they made quick work of filling their tub with water that Marcurio then heated with what little magic he could still muster. His pants were easily discarded and he then helped Lyra out of her armour, slowly revealing the extent of her injuries.

“Love…”, Marcurio whispered in shock and she glanced at him over her shoulder as he slowly caressed the skin of her back, black and blue. He was almost afraid to touch her.

“I did take healing potions. They just… weren’t enough.”, Lyra reluctantly admitted. Marcurio sighed, then rummaged through a cupboard, producing a magicka potion he quickly downed. He then shook like a wet dog, making Lyra smirk: “You hate the taste of those.”

“But I am not leaving your body like this.”, he stated and walked over to her, but as he touched her this time, his hands were emitting a soft, golden glow, his touch leaving behind healed skin, slightly rosy and with goose bumps.

“Thank you.”, Lyra sighed, but Marcurio shook his head, “You are covered in blood, I can’t even see if you’re still injured.”

“I’m fine.”, she reassured him and took his hand, “Now come before the water gets cold.”

A soft smile was all the answer he gave, but he followed her and simply watched her with delight as Lyra closed her eyes, sunk into the water to wash.

“Allow me.”, Marcurio asked and without awaiting her answer, he began to wash the grit off her face, slowly revealing the beauty beneath the dirt, the softness of the woman he loved beneath the battle hardened warrior she was.

“I love you.”, he mumbled and Lyra opened her eyes, then slowly took the sponge from his hand and simply let it drop to the floor. The glint in her eyes told him everything, yet he found himself still surprised as Lyra gently pushed him backwards so that he sat in the warm water and she straddled him, her hands on his shoulders.

He gasped when her lips touched his, totally unprepared for the surge of lust, of longing and love that hit him like a tidal wave. All he could do was hold onto Lyra and hope to never let her go again.

When their bodies found their most intimate connection, a moan was wrenched from them both and neither had the energy nor the wish to suppress it. Neither did they care about the water they splashed, their common and only goal was to chase their lust, quench the almost desperate longing that threatened to burn all sense from Marcurio. He could not stifle his groans, but swallowed Lyra’s with a deep kiss he only broke when he absolutely had to.

His arms were numb from holding her close to him with all his strength and Marcurio knew it was ridiculously weak compared to the power in Lyra’s arms, arms that were braced against the edge of the tub and he was grateful, for he now belatedly realised that had her hands still been on his shoulders, he would have needed another healing spell.

Marcurio slowly raised his hand to cup Lyra’s cheek in his palm and he smiled, glad to have her in his arms again. He frowned, then pulled his embrace tighter and when she smiled in confusion, he bashfully admitted: “Just checking that I’m not dreaming this.”

“I assure you, I am here.”, Lyra promised and kissed him. It was chaste this time, but it made Marcurio’s heart soar all the same.

Lyra’s head drooped and she rested it against his shoulder, her arms looped loosely around his neck.

“You need to rest.”, Marcurio chuckled, but she grunted her dissent, so he laughed, “If it was the other way round, you could carry me to bed. Alas, I can’t carry you and I am not willing to try and risk injury to us both.”

“Alright.”, Lyra grumbled in mock anger, then they left the tub and did not bother to dress or even dry, they just made their way up the stairs and to the bed. Lyra all but collapsed and left it to Marcurio to pull the furs over her naked form.

He chuckled to himself and lay down, but he stopped short when he saw her lying there.

“Marcurio?”, Lyra asked, her voice muffled by the pillow and only one eye open. Now or never.

“I’ve waited too long.”, Marcurio slowly spoke and he saw the confusion and insecurity in her face, watched her slowly prop herself up on her elbow, both eyes open now, albeit still hooded from impending sleep.

“I’ve waited far too long. But no longer.”, Marcurio whispered, then turned around and reached into the drawer next to the bed, his fist closed around something he had feared to have wasted, then he turned back to Lyra and opened his palm to reveal her mother’s Amulet of Mara, “You don’t have to say anything right now, but I want you to know… I want to marry you.”

Lyra merely blinked at him, her mouth agape and both eyes wide open.

“I…”, she then stammered, “For the love of Mara… of course, Marcurio!”

“Whew.”, he breathed, “Good to know.”

After a beat of stunned silence, they both erupted in laughter. Still grinning like an idiot, merrily, Marcurio gave the amulet to Lyra, who unceremoniously stashed it away and smiled: “We’ll have to keep it for our children.”

“I just hope none of them have to make their proposal as dramatic as we did.”

“Here’s hoping.”, Lyra jested, then pulled him close and kissed him goodnight.

 

She was asleep in a few seconds, but it took Marcurio longer to find sleep, his mind still reeling. But he was happy. Life was good.


End file.
